Lucivar's Daughter
by dancingwithinbrokendreams
Summary: Lucivar had helped a young witch through her virgin night, only to have her spit in his face with contempt for being a half breed bastard. Little did he know, the same woman who had humiliated him during his years as a trainee had given birth to a daughter. What will happen when the girl shows up at his doorstep claiming to be his?
1. Chapter 1

**Yes, yes. ANOTHER story. xD well hope you enjoy it! Please review! Flamers welcome! This story is set after the purge. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anyone but my characters. **

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Marian stared up at her husband mouth agape.

"What? What did you say?"

"I said that you are going to go upstairs and rest with no fussing." Lucivar hovered over his hearth witch smiling arrogantly. Marian bristled.

"And what makes you think that I'll…" Marian blinked, focusing her eyes on the piece of paper now dangling in front of her.

"Look familiar? If I remember correctly you gave this to me as a certificate for fussing." Vanishing the piece of paper he reached a hand out and pulled her to her feet.

"You….you _kept_ that thing?" Marian brushed her long black hair from her face, golden eyes filled with dismay and a hint of amusement.

"Daemonar is staying at the keep with Jaenelle and Daemon. I plan to use the opportunity." Lucivar tucked his wings close to his body. Marian's eyes narrowed at this.  
"And what, may I ask, are you planning to do?"

Lucivar smiled.

"Well….first I'm going to bring you upstairs." Lucivar hands fell to Marian's hips, drawing her close. "And lay you on the bed." Marian gasped as Lucivar began nibbling her neck.

"And once I've gotten these troublesome clothes out of the way I'm going to spread…." Both eyriens jumped as someone pounded on the door. Marian moved to answer it but Lucivar held her against him.

"Ignore it. They'll go away eventually…now where was I? Oh yes, I'm going to spread…" A small cough came from behind them and Lucivar jerked around, shoving Marian behind him, war blade held out, ready to attack. Lucivar's eyes went round and the corner of his lips began to twitch.

"What happened to _you_?" Marian, sidling out from behind Lucivar gave Daemon a wide eyed stare.

Daemon stood in the room, his unnaturally beautiful face etched with something more than annoyance and his clothes were simple shreds of cloth clutched in his left hand. Marian tactfully averted her gaze and rushed from the room shouting to Daemon not to move.

Daemon sighed and turned his golden glare onto Lucivar who was trying his best not to laugh.

"Sorry to interrupt." Daemon replied coolly. _And if you have any more sense you'll know better than to laugh at me right now. _

Lucivar heard the underlying words and bit his cheek. Marian appeared in the kitchen, handed Daemon a towel and one of Lucivar's outfits, and busied herself making tea. With what dignity he could manage Daemon pulled on the leather trousers and shirt before glaring fully at his brother.

"I would like you to know," Daemon's voice, normally with a seductive edge, came out in a hiss, "That this is your fault."

Lucivar smiled and shrugged.

"Well I didn't know that seeing me made you tear your clothes off but I'm going to have to decline any activities. I am a married man." Daemon's glare narrowed and Marian swung around to face her husband, blushing. Lucivar shrugged again, ignoring both glares from brother and wife.

"So bastard are you going to tell me why you barged in holding nothing but three strips of what I assume were your clothes and blaming me for your state of undress?" Lucivar smiled as Daemon accepted the cup of tea Marian offered him.

"Your son." Daemon hissed. Marian winced and managed a smile.

"What exactly did he do this time?" she asked.

Lucivar perked up at this, listening intently.

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He should have known better. Should have known that the child in front of him was not only Daemonar, the sweet hearth witch Marian's son, but Daemonar, the stubborn prick of an eyrien warrior, Lucivar's son. Having forgotten this little detail, he had seen no reason why they shouldn't venture in the woods to play hide and seek with the kindred. Saw no fault in the plan of him doing the searching while Daemonar hid with the others. Until eight hundred pounds of furry, white arcerian cat leapt out at him. The shield had snapped instantly in place around his skin, but there was time for more. Thinking it part of the game (or just wanting to use Daemon as a scratching post), the cat had torn Daemon's favorite silk shirt to shreds. At least he was able to get rid of those pants Jaenelle had insisted on him buying. After managing to get his wind back, he focused on getting the happy bundle of fur off of him by calmly explaining that he couldn't breathe. Since that hadn't worked he began struggling out from underneath the cat who had tired itself out and was now finding Daemon to be a very comfortable pillow. Not that it made _him_ anymore comfortable.

"And I would like you to know." Daemon said coolly, turning his gaze on Lucivar whose face had gone red with the effort it took not to laugh. "That it was _your_ son who told the rules to the cat."

"I'll….talk to him…" Lucivar gasped. Daemon gave his brother a narrow stare before standing up from the table and walking to the door.

"Good evening Lady Marian." Marian nodded and watched Daemon disappear.

Focusing her attention on her now hysterical husband, she rolled her eyes and went to clean the dishes.

Lucivar stood up and wrapped his arms around his wife from behind, breathing in her psychic scent.

"Don't think I've forgotten how I want to spend this afternoon." He muttered into her hair.

Twisting in his arms, she faced him and wrapped her arms around her neck.

"Do you really intend on talking to Daemonar about explaining things to the arcerian cats?"

"Of course. If not I'm sure Daemon wouldn't hesitate in telling the younger arcerians that I'd make a good snack." Laughing at the look of shock on Marian's face, Lucivar gathered his hearth witch close and headed for the stairs. "Come on, I'm still going to fuss over you."

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**Please review! Flamers welcome!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's the introduction of Lucivar's daughter. I was going to put her in the first chapter but her character development was still being….developed xD **

**REVIEW! Flamers welcome. **

**Disclaimer: the only characters I own in here are of my creation :D oh happy day…**

Sirian stretched her bat-like wings out, letting the rush of cool air wash away the lingering scent of musk and sex from the room. The last man had been unpleasant to say the least, riding her without mercy. As much as she would have liked to slit the bastard's throat afterwards, she was forced to acknowledge the fact that such an action would get her killed. Unfortunately the bastard wore a darker jewel than her birthright and she wasn't going to reveal to anyone her red jewel. Sirian shivered and pulled the shawl she wore tightly around her. Closing her eyes she let the wind caress her skin like a lover's touch. A lover that she knew would never exist. For someone who lived a life of a whore, no matter how well known, was destined to never fall in love.

A quiet knock announced the arrival of her dinner. Swinging open the door, Sirian was surprised to find, not a servant bearing a tray of goods, but her friend and former co-worker staring straight at her.

"Claudia." Sirian nodded her head and made way for the young witch to enter.

Claudia was a small woman with a large, voluptuous frame. She had wide hips and large lips that filled her face. Her hair flowed down her back in golden waves, illuminating her pale skin and green eyes.

"Hard at work I see." Claudia said, eyeing the red silk sheets with distaste.

Sirian nodded and stretched, wondering what the woman before her had come to say.

She didn't need to wait long before Claudia rounded on her, pointing an accusing finger at her face.

"You need to quit this pitiful excuse of a life! You've got bags under your eyes and you're skinnier than ever! I…I hate to see you this way." Rolling her eyes, Sirian settled herself comfortably in one of the armchairs sitting by the fireplace.

"You've lived a life as a whore too, just because some rich man makes you his concubine doesn't mean that you've become more than that." Sirian brutally pointed out.

"At least I'm devoted to only one man now…look, I didn't come here to argue." Claudia turned a worried expression on Sirian and sat down beside her.

"I'm worried about you. It's been a year since your mother died in that awful purge, don't you think you should open that letter?"  
_Ah, now we're getting down to it. _

Sirian shook her head and glared full force at the woman before her.

"Why would I give a damn about what that woman has to say? She was never a mother to me and she never had anything to say, why should I read the letter?" Sirian defiantly folded her arms and stared at the red carpet beneath her.

"She may have left you something important." Claudia's voice was coaxing, trying to get Sirian to open up. "Money maybe, who knows you could be rich!"

_And the only reason you came by today is to see whether or not you can leech off of me._ Sirian thought angrily.

In fact, she had come close to opening the letter her mother had left twice before, but for some reason that went beyond stubbornness she had ignored it. Her mother had been an Eyrien witch catering at one of the eyrien camps when she was young. Sirian had gathered throughout the years that she was a bastard child of one of the eyriens in the camp. Her mother refused to giver her the name of the eyrien, only glaring off into space whenever the topic came up. Not that Sirian had talked to her mother much, being too busy earning money for her half of the food. When the realm was purged, her mother had been caught in the storm and died, leaving behind a single letter addressed to Sirian.

Bitch.

Sirian hated the woman with a passion.

Glancing at the mirror hanging above the mantle, she felt a sudden chill of anger. She had wide golden eyes and sun-kissed tan skin. Her ebony hair fell in soft curls around her shoulders like her mother. She was told often that she looked like her mother, but Sirian knew that she must have some resemblance to her father as well. Whoever the hell he was. What else could possibly have explained the coldness in her mother's eyes when she looked at her? Pushing the thoughts to the back of her mind, Sirian glared at Claudia who had gotten to her feet and was exploring the cabinets in the room.

"If that's all you came for then leave, my next customer is going to show up soon." Claudia whirled around, hurt shining in her eyes.

"That's all you think about isn't it? Your customers, your customers! I hope you know that I had to sneak off in order to come here and visit you! You treat me like trash the moment I walk in here and then tell me to leave like I'm below you!"

Sirian growled angrily and pushed herself to her feet, her eyes never leaving Claudia's.

"No one asked you to come and see me. That was of your own accord so don't you dare act like it's my fault." Sirian's voice came in a hiss, her eyes having narrowed to slits. Claudia cast a frightened look in the eyrien's direction, which quickly turned to concern as Sirian slumped into the overstuffed armchair, her hands clamped tightly over her abdomen.

"Sirian? Sirian honey what's the matter?" Claudia knelt in front of the chair; touching Sirian's flushed face here and there.

Sirian's breath came out raggedly as she shook off Claudia's help and stumbled to the small bathroom. After a few sips of water and a couple of splashes in the face, she felt revived enough to stumble back into the waiting room which held an anxious Claudia.

"Are you all right?" Sirian forced a smile and nodded her head.

"Yeah, I'm fine, maybe you should leave…" her sentence was trailed off as she watched shadows fill Claudia's face.

"You are servicing men when you knew it was this close to your moontime? Are you fucking crazy?"

"Now, now. A noble's concubine shouldn't be using language like that." Sirian gritted her teeth as another wave of nausea overcame her.

"I don't care what language I should be using! Dammit, you and I both know that these moontimes really affect you. Not that I could ever figure it out. We both wear the opal, and yes you have a darker version of it than mine, but it shouldn't hit you this hard."

Sirian glanced away form Claudia's accusing stare. Even her friends had no idea she wore the red jewel.

"_Always keep a card up your sleeve. If you reveal your hand, you lose the game."_

She had heard those words somewhere before and kept them close at heart.

"Sirian?" Sirian focused on Claudia and forced a smile.

"I suppressed the last two moontimes; it's coming to get revenge I guess." At least that was the truth.

"You suppressed…." Claudia's mouth hung open in disbelief.

"You. You really are crazy. You know if I didn't know you better, I'd assume you were some sort of masochist." Sirian couldn't help but smile at that.

"Look. I'm fine now…just….go okay? Thanks for coming." Claudia looked taken aback before she smiled sweetly.

"Oh I don't think so. You are going to lay in that bed and rest and I'm going to tell the kitchens to send up a tonic."

_Sounds good so far. _

Sirian nodded her head.

"Then I'm going to cancel all your appointments for the next seven days."

Sirian glanced up sharply.

"You know as well as I do that it only takes three days for…" Claudia shook her head, cutting Sirian off.

"And to make sure that you don't get up and wander off like you usually do around this time, I'm contacting Kavar." Sirian's head whipped around, resulting in a loud pop as her neck protested its rough treatment.

"Why the hell would you contact Kavar?" Claudia continued to smile.

"Because you and I know perfectly well he's the only one you'll listen to when you're like this. Then after the week is out, I'm going to come back and I want to hear that you've read that letter your mother sent you." Sirian opened her mouth to protest but Claudia lifted her hand, demanding silence.

"If you prefer I can stay here the rest of the week and read the letter to you." Sirian closed her mouth and shot a glare at the woman beside her. She stirred uncomfortably, feeling cornered.

"Fine, contact Kavar. I hope you know that when this is over I'm going to beat you to a bloody pulp." Claudia smiled and patted Sirian's head.

"I know. Now, how about I go pick out a book and read it to you?"

"Claudia?" Claudia's green eyes clashed with Sirian's narrowed gold ones.

"Yes?"

"Get. The. Hell. Out." Claudia smiled and worked her way over to the door.

"I'll be back to check on you in a week then."

Sirian watched the door close slowly behind the woman and leaned back with a sigh.

Damn.

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.

Closing her eyes, Sirian let the mental images of her decapitating every person in the realm lull her to sleep.

**REVIEW! Flamers welcome. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to my reviewers! Review! Flamers welcome!**

**Disclaimer: the world of Black Jewels belongs only to Anne Bishop, I only own my characters. **

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Sirian sipped at the bitter tonic, eyeing the white envelope before her with distaste. As promised Claudia had cancelled all her appointments for the rest of the week and even went so far as to cancel half of them for the week afterward. Not that she was going to complain. She had been meaning to take a break for the past two months now. Maybe she'd pay a visit to Draega and do some shopping, or even Ebon Askavi. Sirian smiled at the thought of the mountains and open air. She hadn't much time to fly recently and her wings were aching to be used. Glancing at the door, she wondered where Kavar was. Not that she wanted an annoying male presence fussing over her and getting snarly about everything. Maybe she'd even sneak out while she had the chance. Traveling before her fourth day _was_ careless, but if it meant freedom from annoying male presences and busy body friends, Sirian thought it would be worth it. Standing, she went to her closet and pulled out the heavy wooden trunk and proceeded in flinging everything into it. She'd request food to fill her cold box, find a coach, and get as far away from here as possible. Feeling lightened by the thought, she tossed the envelope in the trunk and closed it. Should she call someone to carry it for her and increase the number of people who could tell Kavar she had left, or should she use craft and risk a backlash? Deciding it best to find someone, she placed her hand on the doorknob and froze as someone pounded on the door. Stepping back, Sirian hesitantly tried to decide whether she should answer it or not.

"Sirian if you want to pretend you're not inside stop hovering near the door." Kavar's voice. Sighing, she opened the door and stepped back, letting the tall eyrien slip inside.

He wore his usual black leather pants and vest, his shaggy black hair falling across piercing gold eyes. Kavar smiled down at her sharply, tapping his fingers against his thigh, a sure sign that he was irritated.

Shifting uncomfortably, Sirian began to wonder just how much Claudia had told him. Claudia was a female who had dealt with Warlord Princes before and she would know how much to tell one about a moontime. So why did that not help ease Sirian's worry that Claudia may have mentioned that she'd been servicing men during her moontime?

"Going somewhere?" Sirian looked at Kavar, puzzled, before remembering the trunk.

Dammit she should have put it away before opening the door.

"Of course not, it's the second day; I'm not foolish enough to travel without my jewels." Kavar's look told her just how foolish he thought she was.

"Of course you aren't. So why do you have a packed trunk resting on your bed?"

Sirian glanced at the trunk and around the room.

"I was going to wait for the fourth day and go to Ebon Askavi. I didn't want to trouble myself with packing later." I paused as someone knocked on the door.

In two strides Kavar reached the door and flung it open, giving the eager looking boy a slashing look.

"What do you want?" the boy's face paled drastically and he took a step back.

"Well? Spit it out!"

"I…I was told to deliver Miss Sirian's things to the coach waiting outside." I felt the blood rush out of my head, wishing dearly that the sputtering boy would just shut up and go away.

"I see. Tell the coach we will be out momentarily. I'll escort her things downstairs." With that, Kavar shut the door.

I didn't dare look up at him; instead, I focused my attention on the red carpet.

"Sirian." It sounded as if Kavar was struggling not to yell. "Did you really think you could sneak off?"

A rush of anger overcame me and I met Kavar's glare with one of my own.

"I don't need to 'sneak off'. I'm a grown woman and I'm mature enough to make my own decisions without anyone telling me otherwise."

"I never said you weren't an adult, and let's not discuss your maturity right now. All you needed to do was to tell me where you wanted to go and I would have made arrangements."

"That's the bloody problem! I don't need you to make arrangements for me; I can do that on my own."

The temperature dropped and I shivered a little.

"It is a male's duty to serve and protect."

I sighed.

Normally I would have smiled at being caught and invited Kavar to join me on a weekend excursion. Damn these moods.

I let out a sigh and shook my head.

"All right. I was wrong, want to join me in sneaking off to Ebon Askavi?" the temperature returned back to normal and Kavar gave a sharp smile.

"On one condition." I glanced up suspiciously.

"What?"

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That insufferable, immature, inscrutable _ass_.

Sirian made a well aimed kick at her trunk and hissed as she stubbed her toe, glaring at anyone who dared look in her direction. They had arrived in Ebon Askavi not to long ago and Kavar had immediately found a hotel. Sirian was given specific instructions to stand with the furniture and not to move an inch or else. Not wanting to argue with _that_ tone of voice, she now found herself standing in a corner next to her trunk and the nervous looking coachman who had been ordered not to let her out of his sight.

And to add it all up she was feeling nauseated and exhausted from the long ride.

She had to admit though that Kavar had kept his temper for the most part. Normally the thought of letting a female on her moontime out in public (when a male had something to say about it) was unheard of. Any male around a witch on her moontime would scrape the temper of her guardian, especially an eyrien warlord prince. Despite his territorial nature, Kavar was doing a fine job of not slaughtering any male around them, much to Sirian's relief. But because she was tired and moody, she was not happy with the fact that Kavar had went off to do _something_ and left her standing here for over thirty minutes.

One condition?

More like all of her free will being suppressed by multiple conditions he pushed into one.

The bastard.

She had promised that she would listen to him. That was the condition. She was not to go anywhere without him and she would listen to him.

She. Would. Listen.

That _bastard_.

There was a fine line separating listening and obeying.

Muttering angrily to herself, Sirian didn't notice Kavar come up behind her until he clamped a hand on her shoulder.

Giving a startled yelp, she swung to face him and glared full force.

"I've got our rooms."

"Oh, I'm so surprised you found it acceptable to get _two_ rooms instead of locking me up where you can keep an eye on me." Sirian snarled.

"They're adjoining rooms." Picking up her suitcase, Kavar dismissed the coachman and headed down the hall. Glaring after him, Sirian followed suit.

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**Review! Flamers welcome!**


	4. AUTHOR'S NOTE: TO BE CONTINUED SOON

So I've been MIA for quite some time. Between college, work , the gym and other everyday situations that are nowhere near as interesting as they could be (except those few times I convince someone to go mattress sliding off roofs...but I digress), I barely have had time to brush my teeth (don't worry, I said BARELY have time. I still manage to do it).

Anyway, I've discontinued most of the stories on this website that I had started, but I haven't given up on this story (yet). I'm re-reading the series for inspiration, so look forward to a new chapter soon!


	5. Chapter 4

**Here's the promised chapter. I'm already working on the other one so hopefully it will be up soon. **

**Recap: Sirian and Kavar head out to Ebon Askavi and find a hotel to stay in. If you want more just re-read the chapters. There are only four (including this one)**

**Disclaimer: I only own my OC's. **

"I'm going out."

"No."

Hell's fire why were males so _stubborn_?

"It's the fourth day prince. I can wear my birthright jewels without worry."

Sirian scowled as Kavar simply looked at her. Who was he to tell her what she could and couldn't do like she was some addle brained puppy?

"You promised we'd go flying down to the lake." She cursed herself silently at the whine that worked it's way into her voice. Still, she felt she deserved the right to complain, after all hadn't she stayed cooped up in this hole in the wall apartment without much fuss? Granted she _had_ done her best to scrape on Kavar's nerves the day before, he was just lucky the manager had decided not to charge extra for the broken sink. Though she suspected it had more to do with the fact that the man was a white jeweled warlord who didn't want any sort of confrontation with a gray jeweled warlord prince.

Kavar remained silent, continuing to inspect the eyrien war blade he'd been holding for the past hour. It hadn't taken long for Sirian to realize he had strategically positioned himself on the dark red sofa, placing him between her and the door. Any attempts she made to move near the exit had ended with her being steered back into the room near the window.

Sighing with frustration, Sirian retreated to her room, closing the door behind her with an audible thump. If she couldn't bully her way past him, she'd have find a smarter way. A doting customer of hers had given her a bottle of whiskey for Winsol last year. It was a good year and a good brand, hard to come by in Terrielle. And it could knock out even the strongest willed drinker with half a glass. Calling in the velvet lined box that she carried the bottle in, she grabbed a pack of playing cards they had been using to entertain themselves with and walked back out into the room, a smile playing on her lips.

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Sirian woke slowly, relishing in the languid feel of her still sleep fogged mind. Stretching, she froze, trying to place the weight that rested lightly on top of her stomach. For a moment she thought she was back in the red moon house, but the notion was dismissed once she registered that she was laying on top of rough cotton sheets and not her usual smooth silk ones. Turning her head, she blinked up at the sleeping face of Kavar and surpressed a smile. Moving slowly, she shifted away from him, freezing once again as the hand on her stomach pressed down slightly to stop her before sliding away. She waited until he lay still once again, mouth hanging slightly open allowing the quiet rumbling snore to escape from the back of his throat. Standing, Sirian stretched her wings, relishing in the achy feel that accompanied the move. It was rare a night with a man left her feeling so fulfilled, being more focused on pleasing her customer than on her own pleasure. But Kavar was different. She wasn't a whore when she was with him, she was just Sirian.

After taking care of her morning necessities, she slipped on her black robe, lit a tongue of witchfire, and proceeded to make coffee.

The night hadn't gone quite as she had planned, though she should have expected as much. Eyrien honey whiskey had a way of turning your thoughts around.

She remembered the suspicious look Kavar had given her when she had offered to pour him a drink while he shuffled the deck. She even remembered agreeing to a glass herself, though every bit of her common sense had told her not to. Still, she had thought she could handle the drink, having had it a few times before, so instead of listening to her gut like she had been taught to do, she had downed a full glass of the drink and...

She remembered the feel of him under her, behind her, on top. She remembered the way he tasted, his psychic scent wrapping around her, musk mixed with trees and the scent of the wind and sunshine clinging to his skin. They had both been so focused on giving the other pleasure it was almost unnatural to her, who was so used to a partner simply taking their own pleasure as much as possible with little regard for hers.

"Morning." Glancing up, Sirian grinned at the sight of the eyrien warlord prince standing naked in the doorway.

"Afternoon might be more accurate. It's past noon." Humor worked it's way into his gold eyes as he ran a hand through his already bed rumpled hair.

"Are you planning on sharing that?" He gestured at her mug of coffee and she moved it instinctively closer to herself.

"There's some left in the pot."

"Selfish." The comment was not meant to be taken seriously and Sirian simply shrugged her shoulders and sipped at the bitter drink slowly, all the while watching Kavar from the corner of her eye as he poured himself a cup and settled down beside her at the table.

"So ..."

"Hmm?" Kavar raised an eyebrow at her and Sirian realized a little to o late she had been staring rather hard at his exposed appendages. Unabashed, Sirian focused her attention onto Kavar's face and a lopsided grin spread across his face.

"That was some night."

"Yeah. It was."

"Planning on another one? What was the drink you gave me anyway? It was..." lost for words, Kavar shook his head slowly.

"Like two people covered in chocolate having sex in your mouth and sliding down your throat?" His laugh filled the small kitchen, bouncing around the room and sending goosebumps rising along her arms.

"Better than that I'd say."

"Eyrien honey whiskey." His gold eyes widened and he focused his full attention on her.

"Where the hell did you get an entire bottle of Eyrien honey whiskey?"

"I had a rather...well off customer last Winsol. He was very eager to share with me. Though he didn't drink any himself." Kavar's shoulders tensed slightly, his smile having disappeared. Silence followed her statement, settling unhappily in the air.

Cautiously, Sirian reached out and poked him gently in the arm.

"What is it?"

"Sirian I..." Seeing the look in his eyes, Sirian shook her head and leaned back in her chair with a frown.

"Come on now Kavar, we've gone through this before." Temper filled the warlord prince's eyes as he turned to look at her.

"That's right. You'd not rather associate yourself with a bastard warlord prince. No, you can only be satisfied with a hundred men between your legs!"

Swallowing her own anger, Sirian refused to take the bait.

"That's not fair. Kavar, we're not children. You know I don't want anything serious. We've done this plenty of times before and we always have the same conversation."

His knuckles were white as he gripped the handle of the mug, not meeting her eyes.

"You're..." with a snarl, he picked up his drink and tossed back the coffee, downing it in one gulp. The mood in the room changed so suddenly Sirian almost missed it. One second the air had been filled with unspoken works and tightly leashed anger, the next Kavar was leaned forward, eyes closed as he coughed and sputtered all over the table. Already on her feet, Sirian thumped the man helpfully on the back, trying to figure out what the hell had caused this. He gestured feebly at the sink and Sirian hurried to get him a glass of water. Sitting with his head bowed low and sipping at the water, Kavar looked restored enough to speak, though his sun kissed tan skin had turned a shade paler.

"W-wh-what the hell was in that?" He gestured at the dropped mug on the floor and Sirian raised a puzzled eyebrow in his direction.

"Coffee. What else?" The glare he gave her held no humor in it.

"That wasn't coffee. That was...that was poison!" Taken aback, Sirian stared down her nose at the man and picked up her own mug still half full with the dark liquid. Taking a sip, she let the bitter taste roll around her tongue before shrugging. It tasted fine to her. When she said as much, Kavar grabbed the mug from her grasp and sipped it cautiously before sputtering out several explicit eyrien curses.

"I'll kill whoever taught you to make that...that..._taint_." With what dignity she had left, Sirian snatched back her drink and glared at him.

"I taught myself how to make it thank you."

Groaning, Kavar put his face in his hands and shuddered.

"I'd swear you made it like that on purpose just to avoid having that conversation, but it wouldn't explain how you could stomach drinking that stuff."

"It's. Fine." She growled out the words and Kavar glanced up at her.

"So you've said." Standing, Kavar left the room only to return a few minutes later, fully dressed. He rummaged around the kitchen for a moment, his moves filled with the temper that had been there moments before.

Eying him cautiously, Sirian waited for him to reach the door before asking where he was going.

Pausing in the doorway, he simply turned to look at her before disappearing, the door closing softly behind him.

Sinking into her chair, Sirian sighed to herself.

It happened every time.

The first time they had slept together, Kavar had tried to stake a claim on her, something a warlord prince often did with a witch whose affections he wished to solely keep. She had turned him down, gently. The argument had nearly broke their friendship, but somehow they had worked through it. They had slept together a few times since, each night ending with the same argument and Kavar storming off to work off his temper.

She didn't want to hurt him, and she sure as hell didn't want to lose him as a friend, but she couldn't deny nor ignore the attraction they had for one another. Not love. No. A whore never loved one person. It wasn't possible. That was her reasoning for holding back on Kavar. He deserved better. He deserved...more. She couldn't give him that. Didn't think she would ever be able to.

Frowning at the sour turn in events, she ran a hand across her eyes and went to get dressed. No use staying cooped up in the room being miserable.

It didn't dawn on her until she was walking out of the door that she had finally gotten her chance to escape from the watchful eye of her escort.

Her triumph wasn't nearly as satisfying as it should have been.

**Review. How else will I know to continue? Flamers Welcome. **


	6. Chapter 5

**What's this another chapter? Yeah. It's true. I tore myself away from real life long enough to slap this down. Enjoy and Review.**

**Disclaimer: I only own my OC's.  
**

Lucivar stood in the small shop, one hand holding onto the collar of his son's shirt, the other holding up a very expensive looking lamp. Or at least what Lucivar expected had been a lamp.

Why had he brought the little beast with him anyway?  
Eyes narrowing, he recalled the sweet voice of his beautiful wife whispering in his ear about taking Daemonar shopping while she got the house cleaned. Having been in the middle of some very intense lovemaking, he had been more than eager to make any kind of promise to her.

He was going to have to keep Marian away from the coven from now on. They were rubbing off on her and his little hearth witch was getting sneakier.

After apologizing to the shop keeper and paying for the damaged goods, Lucivar hauled his overly hyper son out of the shop and toward a small pub so they could grab a quick bite to eat before heading back home. The pub itself was a little homey hole in the wall with no more than five tables nestled snugly inside, a few minutes of walking could have brought him to Manny's place where he usually stopped to eat, but his stomach was demanding nourishment almost as loudly as his son was. Seated and occupied by his own plate of food, Daemonar seemed content to not get into any mischief for the time being, giving Lucivar a moment to relax. A moment he desperately needed after spending the morning with his "little bundle of joy" as some women had been overheard calling him. Sipping at the ale he had ordered, Lucivar let his eyes drift around the pub, resting on the only other person in there. A young eyrien warlord prince sat hunched over the counter, head in his hands and what Lucivar suspected wasn't his first glass of whiskey sitting before him. The bar owner was leaning forward with caution, asking the boy a question who was clearly ignoring him. When the man's daughter came over to clear the table, he nodded in the eyrien's direction, curious.

"He been here long?" The girl, a cute short haired girl with overly large green eyes, glanced over at the eyrien and sighed.

"He's been here for about three hours. He hasn't said a word but he's been sitting so still it's scaring off some of our regulars."

Which would explain why the pub was so empty.

Standing, Lucivar glanced once at his son (who was now happily tearing into a chocolate dessert) before moving over to sit next to the boy.

Ordering another ale, Lucivar eyed the kid as he sipped his drink. He looked just old enough to be considered an adult, but not by many years. His black hair was scraggly, falling across gold eyes that were glassed over with too much alcohol, staring at nothing in particular. Most men in Kaeleer wore their hair long, keeping up with tradition that had long since been lost to Terreille, proving the kid wasn't from the shadow realm. His clothes were good quality leather, not aristo, but proof that he wasn't slumming around in the gutters anywhere. Lucivar knew without looking at the jewel hanging around his neck that the boy wore the gray, making him a possible threat to his home. Since he hadn't done anything to deserve having his ass kicked yet, Lucivar was content to simply sit next to him, watching his every move as he pretended to concentrate on the flavor of his own drink. He found it odd that the boy continued to stare at his drink, shudder, place it back down then pick it up and sip at it cautiously as if he half expected it to be poisoned. Every now and again the boy would mutter to himself and Lucivar would catch the words "Stubborn", "Snarly bitch" and "One night stand" from the broken sentences.

"I'm assuming you're acting like a boy being led around by the cock because of some woman?" The kid didn't respond at first, and Lucivar almost thought the other eyrien was ignoring him. Slowly, the boy's eyes focused on him, a frown etched across his features.

"I am not being led around by my cock." there was a challenge in his voice that Lucivar chose to ignore.

"Then explain why you're snarling to yourself in a pub getting drunk when it's barely past lunchtime." He had the kid's full attention now.

"Why should I explain myself to you?" the snarl in his voice pricked at Lucivar's temper, but the older eyrien simply shook his head.

"Because I've got wisdom you're clearly lacking. And I'm in charge of keeping this place safe. If you're going to run around scaring off customers there better be a damn good reason behind it."

The silent challenge that had been hovering around the kid had gone, replaced by an almost heart broken defeat.

"She's not just _some_ woman. She's...she's..." he made a gesture in the air, as if expecting the word to fall in his lap.

"Hmm...let's see. Is she pretty?" The boy's eyes lit up, the glassy look edging away into a gaze filled with desire.

"Pretty? Not at all. She's beautiful. Breathtaking."

"Uh huh. So she's beautiful...is she sweet?" The boy chuckled, shaking his head.

"No, I wouldn't call her sweet. She can be if she tries, but the woman has more fire in her than any other I've ever seen. And she's stubborn. Hell's fire she's stubborn. I bet even Lucivar Yaslana couldn't compete with her stubborness." Lucivar choked in mid sip of his drink, covering up his laughter with a small coughing fit. The kid eyed him for a moment before continuing.

"She's strong too. And I don't just mean strong with her craft, though the darkness only knows how she's able to do half the stuff she does wearing the opal. I mean she can knock an eyrien warrior on his ass in a blink of an eye. Even saw her do it once."

Lucivar raised an eyebrow as he glanced up to check on Daemonar who had taken a break from tearing apart his dessert to stare at some particularly interesting bug that had deemed it necessary to crawl across the table.

The boy really had it bad for this girl. Though she honestly sounded like a pain in the ass.

"You're not from around here. This girl live here?" He didn't think so, after all he had acquainted himself with most of the people under his rule. There were a few villages filled with refugees looking for a new life away from Terreille that had yet to introduce themselves (wary of being around an ebon-gray jeweled warlord prince), but a girl like that would have made herself known, one way or another.

"We're from Terreille, on a …..vacation. She wanted to get away and explore the Askavi mountains. Would have run off without a word too had I not showed up when I did." the expression on his face was dark.

Terielle. The place was going through hard times after the purge that was unleashed a few years back to get rid of the taint that had spread across the land. Lucivar had spent his childhood there, a pleasure slave tortured at the hands of cruel witches. Steering his thoughts to safer territory, he grasped at a question that wouldn't bring back haunting memories.

"So she's eyrien too?"

"Yeah. Well...her mother is anyway. Her father..." the boy shrugged and drained the rest of his glass.

"So have you claimed her yet?" anger clouded the other eyrien's face.

"How could I? I'm not enough for her. She'd rather have some stranger's cock between her legs than someone who actually cares for her. At least I'm still good for a quick screw every now and again." the bitter tone spread ice through Lucivar's veins and he could feel himself rising to the killing edge. A story too similar to the ones he heard as a pleasure slave in Terreille. Bitches who twisted a man's heart and feelings to their own needs. The wary stare he was receiving had Lucivar standing up knowing that he had to get moving in order to calm down. He gestured at Daemonar to finish his dessert quickly; the boy, having caught the change in mood, warily got to his feet and cautiously headed over to the door, waiting hesitantly for Lucivar to catch up.

As he strode to the exit, he turned at the waist to give a hard stare at the boy who was still watching him.

"It's my experience that a woman like that is up to no good. Anyone that twists around emotions like a cruel game deserves a blade across the throat. Think about it." the door hadn't even closed before the warrior and his son had disappeared into the sky.

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	7. Chapter 6

**Sorry this chapter is so late. Things got crazy between work and hospital visits. **

**Anyway, the next chapter is already under construction. **

**Review. Falmer's welcome. **

Sirian had planned to roam the shops for the better half of the morning, instead she found herself sitting by a lake brooding over the events that had happened a few hours ago.

She had flown around the woods lining the edges of Ebon Rih that separated the village from the mountains. It felt good to stretch her wings, to feel the wind caressing her skin as she dipped and turned in the air, treating each move like a graceful savage dance that only an eyrien could know the steps to. So good, in fact, she had stripped off her black leather pants and loose fitting red blouse in order to feel the wind all over her. It hadn't taken long before she vanished her under clothes as well.

So here she was, sitting by a lake cold enough to freeze a warlord's balls off, in nothing but her black heeled boots. She'd scoured the area hours ago, making sure there wouldn't be any nasty surprises waiting for her as she took the moment to simply let go of everything.  
What she wouldn't give to live in Kaeleer.

Ever since the purge, Terreille had been a wreck. Though in all fairness, it hadn't been any better before the purge...maybe even worse.

With most of the queens dead or too young to rule, males from every territory were becoming more than a nuisance. Some wanted to serve, craved the connection to a queen that each male was born with. Others simply wanted their land to thrive, their people to not starve in the streets. And every now and again someone would run across the males who wanted nothing to do with queens or witches in general. Those were the dangerous ones.

She had met one such group during a trip into town with Claudia. The look in their eyes...the memory of it still sent shivers down her spine. Those were men who had suffered by the hand of a female, and they were going to live with that mistrust for the rest of their lives. There had been rumors of witches disappearing all over Terreille, no one quite knew where or why they had been taken. It had started out small, a witch going missing once every few months. But lately the disappearances had been increasing, approximately three witches going missing every month.  
Sirian had looked into the matter herself, concerned for her own well-being and the well-being of all the women she knew and worked with. The disappearances seemed random, not focusing on a specific caste or age or look of the women. Some were young queens just starting out, others were older women who wore jewels light enough to barely be considered blood.

Still, no one spoke of these matters aloud, preferring to spread the news through rumors and the occasional "I saw it with my own eyes".

She had considered leaving Terreille on plenty of occasions, even fantasized about building a house somewhere in the mountains far enough away from the villages to not be bothered, but close enough that she could fly down and have a meal every now and then. Sometimes, when she was drunk enough, she'd even allow herself a small fantasy of living such a life with Kavar.

Grinning at her own girlish thoughts, Sirian stood and brushed away the stray grass that clung to her bare skin. Calling in her clothes, she proceeded in getting dressed when a sound to her left caught her attention. Still topless, she whirled to face the danger, knife in hand and feet already set in a fighting stance.

"Hell's fire woman you nearly gave me a heart attack!" The eyrien standing before her was handsome, sporting the dark membranous wings that came with being an eyrien, and the combination of sun-kissed tan skin and golden eyes found in the long lived races. He held himself like an aristo, but nothing he wore indicated any truth behind the stance. Still, she noted the eyrien war blade held firmly in his grasp and acknowledged him as a warrior, though he didn't seem to regard her as one in the slightest judging from his relaxed muscles. She watched his eyes travel down her body, a flicker of interest sparking behind them and a sense of approval as they came to rest on her still exposed top. The look wasn't predatory, but her muscles still tensed. Too many years living in Terreille had taught her what a male was capable of doing, especially a sapphire jeweled eyrien warlord prince.

"I could say the same to you." Seeing that she wasn't going to relax, the eyrien took a step back and grinned sharply.

"I'm doing my usual patrol. It's part of my job to make sure the borders are secure. You're the one who trespassed and started removing your clothes." He paused to consider his own words before giving her a narrow eyed glare. "Why _are_ you standing half dressed in the middle of the woods?"

Sirian narrowed her own gold eyes and used craft to pick her top off the ground.

"I was..." What? Trying to soak up as much of Kaeleer as she could before having to return to the hell she lived in? He was eyrien, but could he really understand the need to feel the sun and wind on every inch of her body? A body that hadn't had a chance to roam freely in ages?

The look in his eyes suggested he did know.

"If you are done...basking, lady. Allow me to escort you back to the village." Sirian opened her mouth to tell the prick that she could handle herself but he raised a hand to interrupt.

"It's a male's duty to protect and serve."

Why did all men like saying that to her?

"Where I'm from prince, males hardly follow those rules."

"You're in Kaeleer now. Witches without an escort can find themselves in troublesome situations." Did he just flinch at the word escort? Sirian couldn't be sure, but she shrugged off the action in order to pull her shirt over her head, using craft so she could still hold the knife in case he used the opportunity to attack. Since he remained where he was, Sirian adjusted her top, vanished the knife and crossed her arms.

"So you're telling me, that a witch can't walk by herself down a damn street without pissing _someone_ off?"

The man just stared at her.

Sighing, Sirian flapped her hand and shook her head,

"Fine. FINE. Take me back to the damn village prince..."

"Falonar."

"Falonar." he seemed oddly amused by something, but didn't look like he was going to share whatever the thought was.

He fell into line at her right, the dominant position.

At least he couldn't tell she wore the red. Then again, Kavar couldn't either and he wore the gray.

"So I assume your mother wasn't full eyrien?" the question made her pause in mid-step. She turned to stare at Falonar, unsure what had brought the topic up.

He gestured toward the soft curls in her black hair, and Sirian instinctively ran a hand through them.

"She wasn't." But she had looked like she was. The woman had straightened her hair every morning to make it look like she was just another eyrien, no one had suspected her bloodline wasn't pure. And the curls in Sirian's own hair could be blamed on a half breed father.

"And your father?" What kind of game was this man playing?

"My father is none of your concern prince."

"Of course...lady." She definitely wasn't imagining the contempt in his voice, nor did she imagine the pause before lady. She didn't give a damn about what the bastard thought of her, but his tone scraped at her temper. She'd put up with enough crap about her bloodline from people in Terreille, she didn't need it in Kaeleer.  
She breathed an inaudible sigh of relief as they continued the rest of their walk in silence and reached the town below.

"I'll be taking my leave now. Stay well." His tone suggested he really didn't care how well she stayed.

"Do you have a problem with me prince? If so, grow some damn balls and say it to my face." The way his shoulders tensed proved she had hit a nerve. He turned to face her and grinned.

"No lady. I understand that you had no way of controlling your bloodline." There it was. He had a problem with her not being full eyrien. Sighing as she watched him disappear into the crowd, Sirian shook her head. Hopefully this wasn't a trait common amongst Kaeleer males. If so...well...she just might prefer the piss hole Terreille to this place.

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	8. Chapter 7

**So this chapter has been ready, I just completely forgot to upload it. I apologize. **

**Review so I'll know this is worth continuing. Falmer's welcome. **

Sirian grit her teeth, slamming down the book she had been inspecting. The shopkeeper, an older, kind looking warlord wearing the yellow, hovered a few shelves away, clearly nervous over her presence. She didn't blame the man, after all she'd been standing in front of the bookcase for over twenty minutes snarling to herself and picking up books before roughly setting them back down on the shelf. She had tried not to let the bastard Falonar get to her. Tried but failed.

"Stupid prick. Should have knocked him on his ass and strung him up by his heels in the woods. Would have served the bastard right. 'You had no way of controlling your bloodline'? I'll show him how well I can control blood..."

"Lady?" With a snarl, Sirian turned sharply toward the voice and felt a bit sheepish as she faced a young warlord who looked barely old enough to have made his first offering. The boy looked ready to bolt, but instead took a step back and raised his chin.

"May I be of service?"

Hell. Did _all_ the males in Kaeleer believe a witch incapable of doing anything?

"I'm fine thank you." when the boy didn't leave, she turned to face him fully, raising a brow in question. Swallowing, the boy tried to smile but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I can help you find a book." Why was he so intent on...oh. Seeing the boy stealing glances to his left, she followed his gaze and felt a smirk playing on her lips. Two older boys were hovering around the corner, whispering to one another.

"Let me guess." she waited until the boy was looking at her before she continued. "You're currently in training am I right?" the boy nodded slowly.

"You've been offering to escort ladies around town most of the morning, but those who didn't already have an escort hadn't taken you up on your offer." there was a small shine of pain in the boys blue eyes that put Sirian on edge, but he kept his expression neutral and nodded once more.

"And your two...friends have had a bit more luck in their escort duties and have been giving you a hard time." another nod.

"They goaded you into taking a bet that you wouldn't be able to find someone to escort within the next hour..."

"Two hours."

"Two hours. So when you saw me you thought I'd be the solution."

"No lady. I hadn't any intention of asking you." Then why are you here puppy? She didn't ask but waited for him to continue. The boy's lip trembled slightly but he squared his shoulders.

"They said I needed to escort someone wearing a dark jewel. You're wearing an opal." his eyes nervously flicked to the ring on her right hand. "I saw you crossing the street but you didn't look like you needed any help."  
Sirian grinned. Apparently her mood had shown on her face enough to keep the kid at bay.

"But you looked like you were going to cry when you came into the store." That certainly threw her off balance. Sirian felt the ground beneath her shift as she heard the protective tone in the boy's voice. Damn males were strange in the shadow realm.

"I wasn't about to cry." Did they train the boys to give overbearing looks or did it just come naturally?

"Not anymore. But my offer still stands...lady." Sirian glanced once more at the boy in front of her, wide-blue eyes, gangly limbs, and a mop of red hair. She glanced at the two boys crouched watching them. Finally she smiled and nodded.

"All right pup, I'll take your offer. Mind showing me a place where I can grab some food?" The boy's expression lit up and he nodded eagerly, taking her arm and steering her out the door and down the street. She caught a glimpse of the two boys' openly astonished expressions before smiling at her "escort's" own grin and the way he held his head high.  
Xxxxxxxx

Kavar stood in the middle of the room, fighting to the urge to kick himself. Sirian wasn't here. Of course she wasn't. She wasn't the type to sit around waiting for a male to come back before going out. He considered for a moment contacting her on a spear thread but thought better of it.

The words the older eyrien had said to him still echoed in his mind.

The man had basically implied Sirian was like those tainted bitches that had once ruled. But she wasn't. She _couldn't_ be.

Hell, he'd met enough witches like that to know that Sirian wasn't one.

Or maybe he was just blinded by his adoration for her. What wasn't to adore? She was strong, beautiful, smart and deadly. And had more secrets than even he did.

He moved over to the bed, now freshly made (no doubt thanks to the cleaning staff), all traces of their night together, beyond the slight musky scent of sex hanging in the air, gone.

Burying his head in his hands, he let his shoulders slump down.

He needed to get away. From here, Terreille, busy cities...from Sirian.

He'd overheard some men talking about eyrien refugee camps somewhere up north in Ebon Rih. A place where eyriens could go to start a new life.

He'd have to sign a contract, and the service fairs weren't due for another two months. But he had a few weeks left of his visitor's pass in the shadow realm. Enough time to see the camps for himself. Enough time to make arrangements before going back to Terreille and make plans to break away from his old life.

He wouldn't regret leaving Terreille for good. Wouldn't regret one damn thing about that place. Except for...

he didn't have a future with Sirian. She had told him that in so many words. She was just another part of his past that refused to go away. It was as much his fault as hers...hell, maybe it was all his fault. It would hurt. It would hurt like a wicked bitch to let her go. But he'd do it.  
In order to grow and start anew, he would leave her.

Thirty minutes later he was packed and ready to leave. A carriage waited for him outside, the rooms were paid for the rest of the stay so Sirian could spend a bit longer in Kaeleer. He had considered waiting for her to get back so he could explain his decision face to face, but once again thought against it. He wouldn't be able to leave if he saw her. So he had written a letter. A letter that he wasn't even sure she'd read considering she hadn't read the one her mother left her. Remembering what he had promised Claudia, he went to Sirian's room and opened her trunk, digging a little to find the bent envelope buried under her clothes. He placed her mother's letter directly under his own, an indication that she should read it. Knowing Sirian, she'd just ignore it. Or maybe she'd burn them both.

"Prince? The carriage is waiting for you." The servant's hesitant voice floated through the door and Kavar squared his shoulders. Better to leave now before he changed his mind.

Who knew? Maybe one day they'd come across each other again.  
He only hoped she wouldn't hate him.

And that he wouldn't still be in love her .

**More soon. REVIEW**


	9. Chapter 8

**Thanks so much for the reviews! The more reviews I get the more inspired I am to post the next chapter. **

**Sorry this one is so late, I went on vacation and I wasn't able to get internet without it costing me twenty bucks a night. **

**Disclaimer: I own all my original characters, but none of Anne Bishop's. **

Sirian watched the boy eat with appalled amusement. The boy wasn't starved, no, she had seen starving boys in Terreille. But he was acting like this was his last meal. Or maybe his first. It occurred to her that he had been training since morning and may have skipped over any meals he was supposed to take that day. The boy, Halon, had told her all about his acceptance into the school just outside of his town. His parents, both light jeweled blood themselves, had been delighted when their son had made his first offering and come out with the summer-sky. He had been immediately enrolled in training to become an escort, something that was common in Kaeleer. Sirian had seen such boys on her first outing that very morning and had questioned the girl serving her coffee what it meant. Apparently boys were trained to be overbearing pain in the asses. Though, watching Halon, she couldn't help but smile. There was so much life in the shadow realm and so many codes of the blood, codes long since lost in Terreille, it was hard to keep up.

Noticing her staring at him, Halon looked up and swallowed the food in his mouth, his ears turning an interesting shade of pink.

"Begging your pardon lady." Sirian couldn't help it. She slumped forward on the table and fell into a fit of hysterics that had the people sitting nearby looking over. When she finally settled down, she caught sight of the boy's face and had to suppress another urge to break down in laughter. Wiping away tears, Sirian nodded at the boy.

"You're going to make a great escort pup, I give you that." the pink on the boy's ears rushed down to his cheeks. His blue eyes focused on his food and he mumbled a quiet "thank you lady". Still chuckling, Sirian waved the waitress over and paid for the meal before standing up.

"You finish that dessert pup. Thanks for the lovely evening." Eyes widening, Halon scrambled to his feet and shook his head frantically.

"Oh no Lady Sirian! Let me bring you back to your hotel. A lady shouldn't walk alone without an escort at night. Even in Kaeleer!"

Sirian shook her head and smiled, opening her wings slightly then closing them with a snap.

"I was planning on flying Halon don't worry. Besides...it looks like your escort time is up. I'm assuming that's your teacher looking for you?" The boy looked in the direction she was nodding and paled. Eying him, Sirian sighed.

"Halon, when was your escort training supposed to be over?" When he didn't answer Sirian leaned forward. "Halon." her warning tone had him glancing up quickly before looking away and mumbling something she couldn't hear under his breath.

"What did you say?"

"About three hours ago lady." Three hours ago. In which time they had done some light shopping, gone for a walk, and ended up in the restaurant for a bite. Huffing, Sirian grabbed the boy by the elbow and hauled him out the door.  
The teacher, looking worried, slumped his shoulders in obvious relief as his eyes rested on his student, still being led firmly by the elbow. The man gave the boy a slashing look before turning his full attention on her.

"Lady."

Sirian placed her free hand on her hip and smiled.

"Halon here kindly agreed to escort me around the town while I got acquainted with the layout of this area. He was a great help and I apologize for keeping him longer than I should." The man looked taken aback but glanced at Halon who shifted nervously and refused to look up.

"My student is aware of when his training is over for the day. Any time after is free for him to choose...after he reports in." Halon, who had begun looking a bit relieved by the civil tone of the conversation, suddenly blanched at this comment and hunched his shoulders.

"I apologize sir, I lost track of time." the man was silent for a moment as he looked over boy and woman before running a hand through his hair.

"I suppose it would be easy to lose track of time when escorting a lovely lady about. Go report home. Your mother is worried. We'll discuss your punishment later." The boy retreated halfway down the street before turning.

"Lady Sirian does not have an escort home." Sirian wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh or throttle the boy on the spot.

"I'll handle the arrangements. Go home." Halon broke out into a run, turned a corner, and disappeared.

"What sort of punishment is Halon going to have?" the man paused for a moment, considering her tone. Taking in the defensive way she held herself, he smiled warmly and shrugged.

"Usually he would get extra cleaning duty at the school, but since his mother was rather vocal about his disappearance and he stopped anyone from contacting him through a spear thread, he'll have an extra round of morning practice." Sirian nodded once, her worry eased. She wouldn't take the blame for the boy's actions since it would probably earn him a more stern punishment. Besides, he couldn't learn if he didn't take responsibility for his choices. She turned to leave but paused as the warlord spoke.

"Let me hail a carriage..."

"No thank you. I plan on flying." the man looked her over and smiled.

"I see. Well in that case lady, thank you for bringing my student back safely...be safe." Sirian blinked as the man turned on his heel and walked briskly down the street.  
Smirking, Sirian stretched her wings and launched herself toward the starry night sky. Kavar would be worried. She was surprised he hadn't tried to contact her by now; though considering the turn of events that morning, he was probably still upset with her. Pushing away all the nagging thoughts, Sirian turned in the air and headed east toward the hotel.

**xxxxx**

The look the clerk gave her as she walked in put her on edge. She couldn't place the expression, but the look in his eyes scraped at her temper enough to make her hands curl into fists as she passed him. Walking up the stairs, she opened the door to her suite and looked around. It had been cleaned by the staff not too long ago but something was...off. Where was Kavar? Calling in her shopping bags, she set them on the floor beside her bed before opening the door that led to his part of the suite. No one.  
It felt wrong and...empty. She pushed back the panic that began to rise as she searched each room thoroughly, looking for any trace of him. He was a warlord prince, he could handle himself. Hell, she'd _seen_ him handle himself enough times to know what he was capable of doing to anything or anyone that posed a threat. But even strong warlord princes could go down, she'd learned that at an early age. Moving into the kitchen, she paused in front of the table, scanning the room twice before noticing the cream colored envelope sitting neatly on the table. Pulling out a chair, she sat and picked up the letter, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of her mother's letter lying beneath it. What the hell was this?

Opening the envelope, she read the note inside once, twice, a third time...and cursed.

Her initial reaction was to rip the letter to shreds and burn it with witchfire. This not being at all rational, she settled with tossing the paper back onto the table and laying her head in her hands.

He was gone. Not just gone from the trip but gone from her life.

Why? _Why?_

She knew why. She understood. Hadn't he said it in the letter? "I love you, but I need to break away from my old life. Start again. I need to leave and not have anything dragging me down. Kaeleer is a wonderful place. I think...I think I need to be here. My heart says I need to be here."

She was just a painful reminder of a past he'd rather forget. A reminder of the taint that once filled the land.

She reached out on a psychic thread, trying to contact the mind she knew so well.

**Kavar?**

Nothing. He had blocked her from communicating with him.

Part of her wanted to pack up, go down to the lobby and demand to know where he went so she could find him and kick his ass from one side of Kaeleer to the next. Another part of her wanted to cry and scream and rage and cry some more. But since neither of those things were appropriate, she settled with ordering two bottles whiskey from the kitchen, and when they arrived, getting pleasantly drunk.  
A few minutes later she was sprawled across the table in the dark, nursing the second bottle of whiskey, already half gone, and finding herself at peace with the events that were unfurling before her. She didn't blame Kavar in the slightest. Hadn't she been trying to get him to understand they would never be what he wanted them to be? Hadn't she been trying to get him on a better path in life? One that led away from her?

Raising her glass to the darkness, she grinned like a fool.

"Here's to you Kavar. You insensitive prick. I hope you fall into a meat grinder. Better yet. I hope you get your ass kicked by some guys, fall in love with a complete bitch and have your heart broken to pieces." She raised the glass to her lips, paused, and sighed.

"No. I lied. I hope you fall in love with someone who makes you smile everyday. Someone who you can love forever and have babies with and some other romantic shit like that." tossing back the liquid in the glass she let out an explosive breath. "But I still hope you get your ass kicked."

**Xxxx**

Sirian woke the next morning, head pounding and an ache between her shoulders, punishment for falling asleep in the chair. Groggily working her way to the bathroom, she took care of her morning needs before making a pot of coffee. She knocked once on Kavar's bedroom door to ask if he wanted some before freezing. Memories rushed back to her. The fight, Falonar, the empty room...the letter. Pushing away the pang of sadness that threatened to spill over and make her cry, she settled herself back in the chair, ignoring her aching wings, and laid her head in her hands, an echo of last night. She'd pack up and go back to Terreille today. No use staying here being miserable. If she had to be miserable she might as well be working; it'd help keep her mind clear. Lifting the coffee to her lips, she spotted Kavar's letter lying open in front of her. Sighing, she vanished the paper and froze once more when she noticed her mother's envelope still there.  
Kavar had placed it there. It was a silent but obvious way to tell her that she should read it.  
She nearly told herself to screw what he thought, but she paused, picking up the crumpled envelope with distaste.

Kavar wouldn't have put it here if he didn't think she wasn't able to handle what the message said. Besides she owed him. This was his last request as a friend, and dammit she's honor it.

She turned the letter over and peeled a corner at the back. A sudden rush of disgust shot through her, attacking her stomach; it was a feeling that always came to her whenever she tried to open the damn thing. Letting it fall back in place on the table, she stood up and stretched out her wings. She'd shower and pack first. Then she'd read the letter.

Walking stiffly to her room, Sirian undressed quickly and turned on the water to the shower, barely giving it time to get warm before she ducked under the steady stream. Her muscle aches dimmed beneath the heat as she washed away yesterday's dirt and grime. The pounding in her head subdued to a tolerable throb and by the time she was wrapped in a towel she almost felt normal.

Pulling on her favorite pair of leather pants and a tight fitting top that would scandalize most uptight aristo women, Sirian threw the rest of her belongings in her trunk and vanished it. She checked the suite three times over to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything before once again finding herself in the kitchen staring at the letter. Taking a deep breath, she picked it up and tore off the top, ignoring the horrible feeling spreading through her chest. What the hell was this? Some spell to stop her from reading it?

The feeling ebbed away as she unfolded the parchment slowly, her mother's handwriting scrawled across the paper. The last words of a dead mother who never loved her...and who she never loved.

**I thought long and hard about whether or not I should go ahead and have Sirian read the letter in this chapter, but in the end this turned out to be the best option. Don't worry, the next chapter is in the works and should be up sooner than the others. **


	10. Chapter 9

**Please keep the reviews coming. It's my inspiration to continue. **

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and favorite-d this story. **

**Some of you are irked I left it on a cliffhanger. I'm a sucker for suspense. But to make up for it, I'm updating the story four days early! **

**Disclaimer: The Black Jewels Trilogy belongs solely to Anne Bishop. All OC's are mine. **

Sirian rose and fell savagely, grinding her hips forward and relishing in the moans that escaped her customer's throat. Sweat dripped down her skin and she let her curls fall forward as the warlord under her rose to his edge, spilling inside of her.

She stayed on top of him, allowing him to catch his breath before moving to the side, curling under the sheets and letting the warlord run his hands through her hair.

She hated the moments in between like this. It gave her too much time to think, too much time to remember the words in her mother's letter.

"Hell's fire you're amazing." the whisper in her ear broke her from her thoughts, and she pressed her mouth into a thin hard line. It had been a week since she'd left Kaeleer. A week since she had lost a good friend and discovered a connection she never saw coming. She hadn't wanted to think about anything, hadn't wanted to do anything but get back to work and forget.

The hand in her hair roamed toward her shoulder, fingers tickling down her side.

"I'd love to have another..."

"You should leave." Sirian winced at the harsh tone her voice took and silently cursed herself as the roaming hand tensed and removed itself completely. Closing her eyes in silent agitation, she willed herself to turn over and prop herself up on her elbow. Her customer did not look pleased, and it was a whore's goal to keep them happy at any cost.

"You're a busy man. I'm sure you're needed somewhere. Besides, I'll always be here eagerly waiting for you to get back." Running a playful hand across his chest, she managed to coax a smile from her customer before he nodded.

"Yeah I did have to get to that lunch with my wif- my friend."

"Of course. Don't stay gone too long though, I'll miss you." The warlord flashed a cocky grin and rolled out of the bed, pulling on his clothes quickly before leaning down and grabbing Sirian's chin, lifting her mouth to his in a kiss that bruised her lips.

Once he had gone, Sirian sighed and worked her way to the restroom, ignoring the aches of protest her hips and legs were sending her. By the time she came out, the bed had been stripped and fresh sheets had been laid out in preparation for her next customer. Flicking her gold eyes toward the clock, Sirian decided she'd have enough time to drink some coffee before the next man was due. It didn't take long for her order to be placed and for the tray to appear on the small coffee table in the room. She had just settled down when a knock on the door made her jump. Brow furrowing, Sirian used craft to open the door and frowned at the sight of Claudia standing before her. Her friend entered the room and stopped short once she caught sight of her eyrien friend.

"Hell's fire Sirian, you look horrible!" Sirian winced before forcing a grin.

"Well aren't you full of flattery today?" Claudia frowned at her tone but chose to ignore the comment in order to close the door and settle in the chair across from her.

"I mean it! You're skin and bones and...you look exhausted." There was enough concern in her friend's eyes to make Sirian sigh.

"I'm fine I just-"

"Where's Kavar? I told him to report in on how your trip went but he never came by to tell me. Did something happen? Is he okay? Don't tell me you two had another falling out." once the barrage of questions ceased to flow, Sirian stood up slowly and faced the fireplace in the room, not willing to meet her friend's eyes.

"He's gone."

"Gone? What do you mean 'gone'?" Closing her eyes, Sirian rubbed a tired hand across her brow.

"I mean he left for good. He finally grew some balls and moved on with his life like I've been telling him to do for years. He's always deserved better."

"So he just...left?" Sirian managed a smile at the disbelieving tone coming from the golden haired witch.

"He left a note. It's about time he did this, I couldn't be happier for him."

"Liar." Sirian turned a glare on her friend but didn't protest the accusation. She most certainly was lying, but she would never admit it.

"I don't want to talk about Kavar. He's gone now. Drop it." Claudia pursed her lips in agitation but didn't bring up the topic again. Both women were silent for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Listen, as much as I love these little visits, I really _do_ have work to get to. My next customer will be here soon and-"

"No they won't. Madame Serah sent him to another worker." Sirian whirled around, stretching out her wings to keep her balance.

"She did _what_?" Claudia froze for a moment but straightened her shoulders and continued.

"She called me to come talk to you. She said you got back a week ago and practically threw yourself into work. She said she's never seen you so upset and that you looked like you wanted to be torn apart. And from where I'm sitting, you've been doing a hell of a job trying to achieve that."

Sirian wouldn't quite meet her friend's eyes after that comment, choosing instead to glare angrily at the freshly made bed.

"I don't want to think anymore." Claudia remained silent and Sirian took the opportunity to toss her hands in the air and pace the room anxiously. "Every time I think I remember. And I just don't want to remember. I want to forget and the only way I can do that is if I stay busy."

"You want to forget Kavar?"

"No. Yes. No, I don't want to forget Kavar. I want to forget my mother." the confused look on Claudia's face had Sirian sighing and plopping down in the chair beside her.

"I read her letter."

"You read- what...what did it say?"

"Nothing horribly important. Nothing...nothing I didn't already know. She said she didn't love me and that she never would, she mentioned how I was a constant reminder of how she failed at life. The usual from her. But...she mentioned my father."

Claudia shifted, eyes wide as she perched precariously on the edge of her seat.

"Your father? Did she say who he was? Where he's been? Tell me she gave you a name..."

"Lucivar Yaslana."

Another silence. Sirian dared a glance at her friend whose expression remained carefully blank.

"Lucivar Yaslana? THE Lucivar Yaslana? As in one of the most vicious and powerful warlord princes in the realm?"

"As in the half breed bastard who raped her in an eyrien camp one night."

"He RAPED her?"

Claudia's face would have been a comical sight to see had Sirian not been struggling with accepting the news herself. Calling in her mother's letter, she searched through it before reading out loud.

"You remind me of him. Your attitude, the way you move and speak. Hell, the way you hold your chin when you get angry or even when you laugh you look just like the bastard! He was a nobody then, a half breed bastard in the eyrien camps who tricked me into believing he was someone special. When I admitted to being a virgin the bastard took me to some room and raped me on the spot. He even had the gall to try and speak with me the next day after my humiliation. I didn't want to be shamed further by admitting he did such a thing to me. That I had let some half breed prince soil my body. And then I found out I was pregnant with you and it took all I had not to terminate the pregnancy. Hell, if I hadn't thought you might be useful I would have gone through with it. I had intended on using you as evidence in the rape charge, but by the time you were born he wore the ebon-gray, and no one dared question his violence and temper. I was left with a shame I could do nothing about, and a useless child that I would always hate."

Glancing up from the letter, Sirian took note of Claudia's wide green eyes and white knuckles as she gripped the edge of the seat. Giving her a half shrug and a crooked grin, Sirian laughed.

"It's not the worst thing she's ever said about me."

"So you're telling me that Lucivar Yaslana is your father? The man who was imprisoned in Pruul for being so violent against witches no one could control him. He's the one who _sired_ you?"

Sirian closed her eyes and tossed the letter onto the table between them.

"According to the bitch it's the truth."

"Do you know where he is now? I had heard...I had heard he disappeared." Sirian shrugged tiredly, wincing as she shifted in the chair.

"Someone said he works for the Queen of Kaeleer. The one who unleashed that army to cause the witchstorm that killed most of the population. But it's all just speculation really. I have no interest on pursuing this."

Claudia stood almost immediately, pointing a finger in shock at the woman sprawled across the chair in front of her.

"What do you mean you don't want to pursue this? You've wanted to know who your father was since I met you! And here you are with a name and you're not even going to try and meet him?" Sirian choked back her anger before standing up to meet her friend at eye level.

"I don't even know if he's still alive! And what if he is? What am I supposed to say? 'Oh hi there Prince Yaslana, I'm your bastard daughter you sired after raping my mother during your stay at an eyrien camp, it's such a pleasure to meet you! Oh and tell me what you think of the weather!'? That'll go over well."

Claudia opened her mouth to say something, paused to reconsider, and shook her head.

"I see your point. But...don't you even want to try?"

"I'd love to try. Hell, I remember when my mother used to tell me that no one would ever want me and I'd just close my eyes and imagine running into my long lost father who had been searching all over for me. He'd take me away from this hell and we'd live happily ever after. Of course I was a kid then and I still-" Sirian bit off her words before she could make herself sound even weaker than she already was. Turning away, she shook her head. She had been a kid when those childish fantasies plagued her thoughts. She was still able to have dreams that meant something, and to have hope that her future would get better.

Not anymore.

The father she so desperately wanted to know about turned out to be a selfish bastard who hated witches. A rapist who was considered one of the most ruthless eyriens in the history of the race.

If her mother hadn't wanted her, who the hell would think such a man would or could love and accept her? Would she want him too? Burying her face in her hands, Sirian sank to the chair and pressed her wings tightly against her back.

"Claudia, I don't know what to do. I hate not knowing what to do. Tell me what to do." she felt her friend move closer and place a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she was surprised to find her smiling.

"The Sirian I know would be in Kaeleer right now tracking down this long lost father and finding out where he lives so she could slam open the door and shout "I'm your daughter, you're going to accept this, if not then I'll kick your ass to hell and back."

Sirian snorted at the comment and rolled her gold eyes.

"It's that easy huh?"

Claudia grinned. It was the sort of grin her friend used when they were about to do something that would put them in a world of trouble.

"You make everything seem easier than it is."

Considering that line, Sirian smiled to herself before shakily getting to her feet.

"Fine. I could use the break."

Claudia glanced her over a few times and nodded.

"Damn right you can. You look like you've been dragged by your feet through the city for weeks without nourishment. You go pack and I'll tell Madame Serah what's happening."

Sirian shook her head and held up her hand to stop her friend from leaving the room.

"Don't mention this to anyone. Just tell her I'm retiring for the time being."

"She's not going to take that well, you're one of her best workers." Sirian grinned and narrowed her eyes.

"I'm also one of her best fighters. She won't argue." Claudia looked her over a little too long before the opal jeweled witch retreated quickly from the room.

Turning toward the mirror, Sirian blanched at her reflection. Claudia's description had been accurate. Her skin stretched tightly around her body and she could practically see her bones poking out. She was covered in bruises and love bites and her sore legs looked like someone had held her down and beaten them with an eyrien stick. Shrugging on her clothes, she called in the suitcase she hadn't bothered to unpack and did a quick check to see if she'd need anything else. After vanishing a few personal possessions she kept around the room, Sirian was ready to leave.

She'd always hated situations like these. It was preferable to simply find the problem at hand and either sleep with it or punch it into the dirt. Since neither options were of any use at the moment, she'd settle with scoping out her situation and making a decision then. Who knew? Maybe she'd actually find her father and he'd be enough of a prick to justify getting punched in the face. Ebon-gray jewels be damned.

**Xxxxxxxxx**

Kavar clenched his jaw in agitation, took a breath, and tried to explain his situation...again.

"I'm leaving. I think I'll find a better life in Kaeleer and I need to get away from my past to do that. You've been a great teacher and I appreciate everything you've done for me, but I won't stay."

The old weapon's master simply stared at him through one narrowed golden eye, the other having been lost years ago, before setting down the tools he was using to repair a bladed stick. Moving over to a large bucket of water, the eyrien rinsed his dirt smeared hands and settled himself on his work bench.

Kavar tried not to shift impatiently and reminded himself that this was one of the hard good-byes. The eyrien camps had become a refuge for most eyriens in Terreille and, though they were still bordering on cruelty, had improved since the reign of the tainted queens. The man before him had taken him in from the streets and raised him like his own son. Kavar had always been a fighter not a builder, so he had been the one in charge of testing out each weapon his master made. It was such an event that had led him to meet Sirian. Pushing away his thoughts before he stood on dangerous ground, Kavar returned his attention back on his father figure.

"Yullivar I know it's sudden but I-"

"Is this because of some woman? That whore you sniff after like some lost puppy?" the way the temperature around the Warlord Prince dropped pushed back Kavar's heated reaction. Yullivar held still on the bench, wings stretched eerily out to make him seem larger, not that the burly eyrien man needed to appear so.

"It's not. Really." the pause before the temperature returned to normal was too long, too still.

"So you just decided to up and leave?"

"I need to go somewhere else. I need to...escape this place." Kavar swallowed nervously. Here was the part he was dreading. "I wanted to know if you'd come with me."

He braced himself for rejection. The man wasn't his father, there was no reason for him to pack up his life and simply trail after a boy who he found slumming in the gutters.

Yullivar turned away quickly, but not fast enough. Kavar saw the frown that stretched across the older warrior's face.

"I shouldn't have asked. You have other things to-"

"Quiet boy." Kavar bit his tongue and felt his temper rise. There was another pause before Yullivar turned toward him with a stern expression.

"I guess it didn't occur to you that you'd need gold to enter the service fairs? I've got in touch with an old contact willing to arrange our names on the list. Now you start helping me pack and don't drop the bladed sticks on your foot like last time." Kavar couldn't help the boyish grin that spread across his face. Yullivar stared hard at him for a moment before shaking his head.

"You're a pain in the ass boy." the words rang hollow, outdone by the shine of pride in the weapons master's eyes.

**To those who were looking forward to having Sirian show up on Lucivar's doorstep and claiming she was his illegitimate child , I apologize. It's going to be a gradual climb into the story, not a sudden blast of plot. **


	11. Author's note: It's not over yet

So with the new school year started, I've been very busy with my class ( I teach preschool). Between lesson plans and other various time stealing work, I'm swamped. Things usually calm down after Christmas, but I'll try try TRY to get a chapter up before then.

I'm going in for oral surgery on Thursday (five teeth removed. JOY). Once I recover from that I'm out of town for a week, so I'll be too busy to get a chapter up VERY soon. But I promise you, you will have something, and that this story is NOT forgotten.

Thanks for all the support, reviews, favorites, and alerts.

-Dance


	12. Happy Winsol:side story for the holidays

**Hey guys! So it's not an official chapter, but since it's Christmas I thought I'd update with a Winsol story and a brief glimpse into Kavar and Sirian's past. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far and I'll have a real chapter up soon. **

**Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! **

**Disclaimer: I only own my original characters. **

Kavar stared at the box in front of him, unsure what to do.

It was about the size of his hand, wrapped immaculately in silver paper specked with red.

"You got a present." Jumping at the sudden voice, Kavar resisted the urge to vanish the package, instead turning to face the weapons master that had taken him in only last year. The one eyed warrior lifted an eyebrow, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. Kavar's eyes followed the older eyrien as he pulled plates from the weathered cabinets and filled it with leftovers from the night before, heating them over a tongue of witchfire before pulling up a chair and sitting across from him. Kavar ignored the plate of food that was set before him, turning his attention back onto the present, picking it up and reading the tag one more time.

"So whose it from?"

"No one." Yullivar's brows rose, drawing more attention to his missing eye. He grunted once, taking a large bite from the food on his plate and chewing slowly, staring at Kavar all the while.

Kavar found he couldn't quite meet the older warlord's eyes and he focused his attention on the small tag that was entangled throughout the ribbon wrapped around the gift.

"You going to open it?" Kavar shook his head frantically, pushing the package away from him.

"I can't."

"Winsol was yesterday." Kavar nodded his head, glancing at his feet.

"I know. But...I don't have anything to give her back."

"Her?" Kavar's felt the heat rise to his cheeks.

"Sirian." Yulivar remained silent and Kavar glanced up quickly to find him staring thoughtfully down at him.

"Sirian? That girl that came by last week?" Kavar couldn't help but smile as the image of the curly black haired eyrien flashed through his mind.

"Yeah her." With a grunt, Yullivar stood.

"Open the gift Kavar, then meet me in the shop. I have something you can send her." Kavar watched him leave the room before turning his attention back onto the box. He picked hesitantly at the ribbon, surprised by how easily it unfurled. Peeling off the paper, he furrowed his brow at the polished box that greeted him before slowly opening the top. A picture, framed in a glass orb, sat delicately on the velvet lining. A picture of Yullivar and himself, testing a new blade the weapon master had just created. When had she taken this?

Picking up the orb, Kavar stared at the picture, unsure of what to make out of the father son feel it was depicting.

Closing the box, Kavar vanished the gift and stood, leaving the room to join his mentor in the shop.

Xxxx

Yullivar was crouched over his workbench when Kavar arrived. He turned and gestured the young boy forward and pointed at the scraps of metal and molding blocks he had laid out.

"Judging by the look in your eye, I'm going to assume that gift was more than you thought it would be." Having not expected a gift from Sirian at all, Kavar only nodded.

"That being the case boy, you're going to put as much thought in her gift as she did yours." Kavar didn't say a word, just accepted the tool Yullivar handed him and listened carefully to his instructions.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Sirian stared up at the man before her, a frown on her face as he mumbled a few words to Madame Serah, gesturing toward her. The red headed woman shook her head, mumbling back as she slid her eyes to the side, a sign that Sirian should take her leave before the situation escalated. This was the third time this week someone had asked about her. The third time a man had wanted to take her into one of the many rooms of the establishment. She couldn't plead being too young anymore, having had her first moontime last month.  
Taking the stairs two at a time, Sirian ignored the sounds leaking through the walls as the older women worked their nightly routine. Closing the door to the room she shared with several other girls, Sirian huddled in her corner, glad to be alone for a change.  
Using craft, she called in the present that had arrived that morning. A smile played on her lips as she tore the brown packaging away, curiosity piqued. A green bag tumbled from the wrapping and she carefully untied the strings. Her eyes widened as she pulled out a small, delicate golden band justa little too big for her wrist. It was a bit rough around the edges, with a few more dents than necessary, but all in all charming.

Sirian smiled to herself, placing the band on her arm carefully, using craft to hold it in place.

She had sent a gift to Kavar as a last minute thing, having thought of the young, handsome boy every day since their first meeting. The smile remained on her face as she sent a thought along a psychic thread.

"**Happy Winsol Kavar."**


	13. Chapter 10

**Hey guys! Look who FINALLY got an official chapter up. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. **

**Remember to REVIEW. Because every review I get is an additional dollop of inspiration!**

**Disclaimer: I only own my original characters**

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Sirian threw her head back and let out an explosive sigh. She could feel Claudia's eyes on her, but ignored her in order to take in the warmth of the sun fully.

It had been three days since she had retired from the red moon house, three days since she had entered the shadow realm and found a small, suitable inn that catered to the blood. She had given it a day before she had begun asking questions. Small, subtle questions that shouldn't have drawn attention to her; but the inhabitants of Ebon Rih were a tight lipped bunch. She wasn't sure why they were so guarded, or why her questions had caused several very friendly merchants to withdraw into themselves and hide behind a cold glare and a steely smile. Hell's fire, it's not like she had told them she wanted to take over the damn place and lead all the males around by their cocks. Still, despite their attitude, she had gathered the main pieces of information that she needed to know.

Lucivar Yaslana was still alive.

And he was in Ebon Rih.

It was that last piece of information that Sirian wasn't sure what to do with. Part of her, the child in her, screamed to go find him. Confront him. Barge into his life with no regrets and finally claim her father into her life.

The more sensible part of her, the warrior that had been bred from blood and violence, held her back. Better to be cautious, especially when dealing with an ebon gray jeweled warlord prince who had gone down in history as one of the most violent males of his time.

So here she was, resting on the patio of a small corner pub and weighing her options.

"So...what? We're just going to sit here for the next few months drinking our problems away?" Claudia's voice broke through Sirian's thoughts, and the eyrien woman turned her golden eyes onto her friend.

"Why not? We've got all the time in the world." Temper flashed in her friend's green eyes, but she didn't say anything.

Wondering once again why Claudia had deemed it necessary to accompany her, Sirian braced her elbows on the table in front of her and grinned lazily.

"I know you've got a life Claudia, and it's not that I'm not glad you're here, but if you need to go back to Terrielle, I'll understand."

"No." something in Claudia's tone pricked at Sirian's temper, but she remained silent, trying to find out why her friend was being so pissy. The golden haired woman eyed her for a moment too long before sighing. "Sirian, you can't keep running away."

Frowning, Sirian sat up straight, eyes narrowing to slits as she waited for Claudia to continue.

"I know you Sirian. I know how good you are at gathering information and I know-"

"_Daemonar stop!_" both women turned their attention onto the street, barely catching sight of a small eyrien child flying around one of the shops, completely naked. The girl who had shouted was staring desperately up at the child, exhaustion evident on her face. Sirian couldn't help the grin spreading across her face as she watched the boy dip low then shoot just out of reach when the girl tried to grab him. People in the street stopped to watch the spectacle, some were clearly amused, while others tried to get the boy's attention in order to lure him into their range. The boy was ignoring all of this, eyes focused intently on the young girl until...

"Mama!"

He was fast. Sirian watched as the boy zipped through the sky and barreled straight toward a lovely eyrien woman standing near the side of the street, arms currently laden with a large shopping basket. She watched the woman drop the basket on the ground in order to catch the child in her arms, exasperation clear in her features, and a stern expression etched across her face. But love shone brightly in her eyes as she subdued the happily squealing child with a hug.

Turning away from the scene, Sirian caught sight of her friend's longing gaze.

"You don't see things like that much in Terrielle." did Claudia sound regretful?

"You don't see a lot of things in Terrielle that you see in Kaeleer." the truth of that statement had Claudia focusing on Sirian, who grinned.

"Don't tell me you want to have a kid."

"You don't?"

Sirian snorted at the question and shook her head.

"Hell's fire no. I'm no good with kids. They're cute for the first two seconds and then they become more trouble than they're worth." Claudia eyed her and sighed.

"I don't know. I think having a kid would be nice. Maybe two. When I was younger, I always wanted a little sister. I might have even settled for a little brother."

Sirian laughed and shook her head.

"Not me. If there's one thing I can thank my mother for, it's not having any more children." Because if she had, Sirian would have had the responsibility of a life beside her own, and she didn't think she could have kept herself and a sibling alive.

"No. No kids in my life is just fine with me." turning her thoughts to more serious matters, Sirian leaned forward, once more resting her elbows on the table in front of her.

"All right Claudia, let's figure out a way for me to find out where Prince Yaslana lives and how to break the news to him without signing my death warrant."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Kavar looked around the small shack that he would call his home for the next few years. He had been raised in camps like these before in Terrielle, but the stink of desperation and fear wasn't here. In fact, this particular camp pulsated with energy, and a quiet strength flowed into the land. He had learned upon arrival that most of these men had migrated here during the reign of the tainted queens and had made it into a small flourishing sanctuary for males too nervous to be near normal society.

Too nervous to be near females.

He only had to look into the men's eyes to understand where the nervousness came from. They had endured far worse than he in their past, and they had scars that would never heal.

"You done unpacking yet boy?" Kavar turned toward the voice that belonged to his adoptive father and the man that had trained him to be a warrior. Grinning sheepishly, Kavar shook his head.

"I was getting to it."

The older eyrien narrowed his one eye at him before snorting softly.

"Well get to it. We've got a lot to do. I need supplies and since this was your idea, you get the honor of carrying everything back here." A pang of regret shot through Kavar, and he shifted uncomfortably. He really shouldn't have asked Yullivar to come. The man had had a good business in Terrielle and he had abandoned it to start from scratch in a place full of males too frightened to interact with nearby towns.

A warm hand on his shoulder had Kavar's attention going back to the older weapons master.

"Whatever you're thinking about boy, stop it now. It was my choice to be here. Just because you asked doesn't mean I had to say yes." Kavar let that little bit of information sink in, and the tightness in his shoulders eased a little.

Nodding his head, the young warlord prince exited to the room on the right and began unpacking. There wasn't much in the room, a small cot tucked in the corner, a chair on the other side and a dresser for his clothes. Not much, but it was enough.

Yullivar had managed to get their names on the lists of the service fairs and it had given them a chance to sign a contract with the head of the camp for them to serve in Kaeleer for three years. The service fairs had started during the tainted queen's reign, when people were stumbling over each other to enter the shadow realm in order to escape. Since the wtich storm that had purged the land, the service fairs were no longer needed and had been slowly closing down. Still, going through the remaining service fairs had given Kavar an opportunity to sign a contract without offering his services to a queen.  
He didn't have the same hostility toward the distaff gender as the current inhabitants of the camp, but he'd rather not be forced to serve in a court. He wanted to be among his kind, focusing on building his life here. Still, the contract he and Yullivar had signed was not exclusive to the leader of the camp. The man had assured him that he wouldn't be serving in a queen's court, but he was still serving time to someone above his station. Whatever that meant.

Worries for another day.

Kavar finished unpacking what little things he had, tucking away the last of his vests in one of the dresser drawers. Turning toward the bed where he had unloaded his things, he approached the last object and felt his breath catch in his throat. The wooden box was smaller than he remembered, but had lost some of it's gleam. How long had it been since he had looked at this? Picking it up, he opened the lid and stared at the small glass orb containing a picture of him as a child with Yullivar standing behind him as they both inspected a blade.

His first winsol gift from a female. And the only one that had ever mattered.

He wondered vaguely if Sirian had kept the gift he had given her in return, but quickly pushed the thought from his mind. It was no good thinking those things. Not when he promised a fresh start.

Placing the orb on top of the dresser, Kavar simply stared at it.

"Stop daydreaming lad and get out here. There's work to do!" Yullivar's voice echoed, bouncing off the bare walls of the nearly empty shack.

Heading for the door, Kavar paused. Turning on his heel, he picked up the picture and placed it back into the box, disappearing it once again.

He couldn't destroy the thing, could never do that. But he'd forget about it. He didn't need to stare at a memory every day. So he would move on. And he would create new memories.

A fresh start.

**Xxxxxxxx**

**REVIEW! I'm craving your opinions here. **


	14. Chapter 11

**What's this? Another chapter so soon? Why yes! I felt it was time to get this story moving again and I finally found a moment to sit back and breathe. Hope you all like it. REVIEW!**

**Disclaimer: I only own my original characters.**

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Saetan pretended not to notice the way the man was fidgeting, keeping his eyes on the papers in front of him as he patiently waited for the man to tell him why he was here.

Hell's fire, did no one remember he had retired from the living realm?

Still, Daemon was off with Jaenelle for the weekend and he _had_ agreed to see anyone that had business in the Hall.

"I have news regarding Ebon Rih, Prince." Protocol. A message beneath the shakily delivered words that had Saetan's temper sharpening, but he reigned it in. No use scaring the purple-dusk warlord since the man had finally found the nerve to speak up.

"If the news is about Ebon Rih, shouldn't you be reporting to Prince Yaslana?" the older warlord shifted nervously, sweat appearing on his brow as he looked around, trying to look anywhere but at the black jeweled man before him.

"We felt it best to report here first." We? Hell's fire, what could possibly have happened in Ebon Rih that the shopkeepers were reluctant to tell Lucivar about? Better yet, what could possibly have happened that had escaped Lucivar's notice?

His son hadn't reported anything amiss in his territory, and as sure as the sun didn't shine in hell, Lucivar would have handled any issues large enough to make it to the study.

"A young witch is visiting Ebon Rih and has started asking questions that we would prefer not to answer." _A stranger is overstepping her welcome and asking things that no one just visiting should ask._ Had the shopkeepers chosen this man as their voice because he knew Protocol so well? Or was he the only one willing to come speak to the high lord of hell?

"I'm sure the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih could handle a case such as this." _Why are you sitting here telling me about something that can be easily handled by the ruler of your territory?_

"The questions are regarding Prince Yaslana and his whereabouts." Saetan felt the control on his temper slip just a little more. He knew his eyes had glazed, and judging by how pale the warlord had gotten, he knew his expression wasn't welcoming.

"Tell me." He brushed lightly against the warlord's inner barriers and felt a slight hesitation before the man opened up enough to reveal an image of a young, beautiful eyrien female. "Do you have any doubt about her motives?" _Will this bitch try and hurt my son?_

"We're unsure about what she would need this information for. But we remember Prince, and we watch."

Saetan felt his temper pull back a little when he saw the look in the man's eyes. Temper, protectiveness, loyalty.

The memory of a young witch slipping into Lucivar's bed. A threat that led to her exile. And eventually, her death.

Was this woman another Roxie?  
One thing Saetan knew for sure was that the man before him would protect Lucivar. They all would.

They trust and respect him, and would do almost anything to make sure he wasn't harmed.

It was that realization that had Saetan stepping away from the killing edge.

"Thank you warlord for your time here. The matter will be dealt with." The man nodded once, and he watched him leave faster than what dignity would normally allow.

Turning away from the door, Saetan paused to consider what to do next.

He couldn't be sure the girl was trying to ruin his son's life, but he wouldn't take a chance either. The thought of his son with his wife and their child was enough to have him send a message on a psychic thread. It wasn't long before the study door opened, revealing a tall man shrouded in black.

"I have a job for you."

The figure nodded, remaining silent. Sending the image of the eyrien girl through a psychic link, Saetan turned a cold stare onto the man.

"Find out why she is here. I want updated reports daily on this woman, even if it's the most menial bit of information you can find." Another nod and the man turned on his heel and left.

He'd know for sure what the woman was here for in a few days. And then he would make his move.

Xxxxxx

Kavar shifted impatiently from one foot to the next, wondering once more why he and Yullivar were being forced to wait for someone when they had so much more to do to prepare the weapons shop for opening.

"Stand still boy." The growl from Yullivar had Kavar freezing in mid-shift before he settled once more.

"Who are we waiting for? We've got a lot to do and-"

"We'll wait until he gets here." the man who had answered him was the leader of the camp, Ronar. An older eyrien with a handsome face and cold eyes that revealed nothing. Kavar had signed the contract with him upon their arrival here, but had seen little of the man since.  
Three days after their arrival, Ronar had appeared at their home to tell them that they needed to present themselves to the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih.

The true holder of their contract.

Whoever this man was, he was important enough to rule a territory and not be questioned when he was an hour and a half late to a meeting.

Not that it made Kavar's temper any less volatile.  
A sudden shift in the camp. A tension that flared up then eased back as someone arrived, sending a rumble of power across the camp. Kavar watched the usual bustle of the men slow to a more leisurely pace as the warriors paused to greet or nod to the visitor who was still too far away to see.

A few minutes later, an eyrien stepped before them and grinned a lazy, arrogant smile.

"Sorry about the wait Ronar, there was some trouble with the little beast this morning and my wife felt it was my turn to deal with him." Ronar smiled, and Kavar saw the handsome man's face transform. Shit, if the man smiled like that more often, women would be flocking to see him.

"It's no problem Prince. These men have arrived from Terrielle to settle here in the camp. Their term is for three years." The man turned toward them and the first thing Kavar thought was, _warrior_. The way Yullivar tensed proved Kavar right and he tried not to shift nervously under the other eyrien's gaze. The man spared a glance at him and Kavar wondered about the humor he had seen flash in the gold eyes before the man focused his attention on Yullivar.

"I hear you had a promising business in Terrielle. Any reason in particular you've relocated?" Yullivar grunted once and shook his head.

"No reason no. Just wanted to see what lay beyond Terrielle. Too many memories in once place and not enough room to escape them." the warlord prince eyed him over before nodding slowly, and Kavar didn't doubt that the man knew what Yullivar meant.

The golden stare was turned on to him and Kavar tensed. There it was again, a flash of humor in the other man's eyes.

"So you got away huh?" The question puzzled Kavar who raised a brow. The man laughed and shook his head.

"No, you wouldn't recognize me would you? You had enough drinks in your system I was surprised you could still speak."

A sudden realization sparked in Kavar's mind and his own eyes widened. The eyrien from the pub.

The man grinned arrogantly, and turned just enough so he could see the ebon-gray jewel hanging from a chain on his neck.

"I see you finally remember. Glad to meet you officially. Name's Lucivar Yaslana, Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih. I bid you both welcome."

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	15. Chapter 12

**Another chapter up and another on it's way. Thanks to those who are still reviewing. Hopefully these chapters keep on moving as fast as they have lately. **

**Disclaimer: I only own my original characters. **

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Daemon stretched lazily, sliding his arms out from beneath the covers to let them chill in the crisp morning air. It took him a moment to realize Jaenelle wasn't lying beside him. Sitting up, he sent a psychic probe throughout the small house and located her in the next room. Not bothering to call in his robe, Daemon opened the door that joined the sitting room to the bedroom and leaned against the frame. His wife sat, snuggled in a blanket as she stared at the current book he had picked up for her the last time he was in town.

_She looks better_.

He felt something in him shift, settle back into place at the thought. After the witchstorm she had unleashed to purge the realms of the tainted queens, she had been so fragile. And he had nearly lost her.

Shaking away those thoughts, he glided further into the room and took note of the furrow between his wife's brow and the blank look in her eyes.

"Is the book that boring?" Jaenelle blinked her sapphire eyes in surprise and focused on him, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"No. It's actually very interesting." She moved over a few inches and he settled down next to her, gathering her closer to him as he wrapped them both in the blanket.

"What's wrong darling?"

"Nothing." She didn't look at him. Daemon raised a brow and Jaenelle sighed.

"It's...not something that can be decided by us."

Daemon remained silent as he thought her words over. Usually when she got that tone in her voice, it meant she had spun a web and seen something unnerving.

"So you're telling me not to ask about it." Jaenelle turned her head and Daemon felt his breath hitch when Witch looked back at him.

"I'm asking you to be patient." Hell's fire, he wasn't going to argue with that. Leaning down, Daemon kissed the woman he loved on the forehead and smiled.

"In that case Lady, would you like me to read to you?" Jaenelle grinned up at him, warm pleasure rolling off her as she handed him the book and snuggled closer to his chest.

Daemon began to read, saving any questions and thoughts for a later time.

Xxxxxxx

Someone was watching them. Had been watching them for a day now.  
Sirian glanced over at Claudia who lay asleep in the large bed, mouth hanging slightly open. She didn't think her friend was aware of it, but Sirian had felt the odd presence following them around Ebon Rih since the day before.  
Every time she tried to hone in on the feeling, it would disappear, only to prick at the back of her neck a few minutes later.

Whoever it was, they weren't an idiot. They knew how to avoid any probe she swept around the area, and that made whoever it was very dangerous.

Calling in the eyrien bladed stick she always carried with her, Sirian inspected the sharp, honed edge. Satisfied, she vanished it once more and headed toward the door.

Time to face the problem and deal with it.

Xxxxxxxxx

Lucivar Yaslana.

_The_ Lucivar Yaslana.

And he had had a whole conversation with the man. While he was being a drunken ass.

Had he said anything that may have insulted the man? Had he challenged him? Hell's fire he must have challenged him. He always looked for a fight when he got drunk.

Yullivar's curse pulled Kavar from his thoughts and he felt the heat rise in his face when the weapons master narrowed his single eye at him in a glare and stared at the training sticks now jumbled in a heap on the floor. The older warlord prince shook his head and pulled the stick Kavar was holding out of his grasp.

"Go take a break boyo."

"I can-"

"A break. You're no good to anyone standing around lost in a daydream. Whatever you need to think about go think about it. Fly around the camp to clear your head. There will be work when you get back."

Having enough sense not to argue with that tone, Kavar nodded and exited the shack that was their home and their business. They hadn't even opened the shop officially yet and they were already swarmed with orders for new blades, repairs, sharpening tools and the like.

As he walked through the busy streets Kavar thought of the conversation the previous day.

Ronar had informed them that, though their contract in the camp was for three years, their contract for staying in Ebon Rih was for five. Something about being a warlord prince and having to serve a longer term. Kavar had been focused more on wrapping his mind around who the man before him was.

Lucivar Yaslana.

Many in Terrielle had believed he died after his escape from the salt mines in Pruul. And many queens had breathed easier at the thought. The tainted ones at least.

Lucivar was known as a ruthless warrior who had killed more witches than anyone could count. And there were rumors he was related to the Sadist as well.

And yet...the man he had met was just another man. Intimidating? Yes. Hell yes. But he had stopped to talk to the men in the camp, even helped them with some of their work before moving on. It was hard to imagine the man, who had been laughing with Yullivar about a particularly embarrassing story of Kavar and a broken sword, as one of the most dangerous men of the realm.

"_Reputations follow us all boyo. Just because one is deadlier than the other doesn't mean the person it depicts isn't a person. Even so, those reputations are there for a reason. It's as much a story of a man's life as it is a warning."_

Yullivar had told him that after their meeting with the ebon-gray jeweled prince.

"Kavar, hold on." Kavar turned to face Ronar who was approaching him quickly but easily. A sign that whatever he wanted to say was important, but not urgent enough to sharpen his temper. "I know you're helping in the shop, but Prince Yaslana told me he wanted you on patrol duty. You'll take the morning shift."

Kavar couldn't help the wariness that spread through him. Patrol duty when he was younger meant to look out for potential queens that may be approaching the eyrien camps.

"What does it entail?" He couldn't keep the hint of worry from his voice, and the understanding in Ronar's eyes didn't help ease the tension.

"You and three other men will fly around the camp for an hour and take watch along the side of the mountain. You're to keep an eye out for anyone approaching from the landing web, as well as any trouble that may be going on down in the camp. When the next group arrives, the rest of your day is free."

Kavar nodded once, turning to leave when Ronar's voice stopped him once more.

"And don't be surprised if you're volunteered to go to the female's camp either."

Seeing the queer look on his face, Ronar continued.

"There's a camp of women further North. They're as weary of men as the men here are of women. Prince Yaslana takes a few of us up there now and again to patrol the borders and talk to the women. Since you don't seem to be uncomfortable around the distaff gender, you're more than likely to be volunteered."

"Is there any way to say no?" Kavar didn't like the way Ronar's smile took on a sharper edge.

"You can always tell Prince Yaslana that you don't want to follow his rules. But you wouldn't say much else afterward." Kavar swallowed once and nodded, waiting until Ronar was out of sight before continuing his walk.

Well, at least he had a rough plan of how the next few years would be like. He only wondered if he'd survive long enough to make it through his contract.

Xxxxxxxxx

Sirian rounded the corner, moving with purpose as she entered the darkened alley. Calling in her bladed staff, she sight shielded the stick, wrapped herself in a red shield, and waited.

One heartbeat.  
Two.

And he appeared. She couldn't see his face since it was covered with a black hood. In fact, all of him was shrouded in black. The most she could make out was that the figure was male, and very tall.

"What do you want?"

Silence greeted her. She tried to get a feel for her opponent, but couldn't distinguish anything about him. No jewel, no psychic scent. If she wasn't seeing him with her own eyes, the eyrien woman would swear the man didn't exist.

"I'll ask you one more time before you lose a limb. _What do you want_?"  
A light brush against her inner barrier and she didn't think twice. She lunged. There wasn't much room to maneuver, eyriens were born to fight in open fields. Still, she had lived in cities her entire life and she knew just how to turn so she could glide through the air without damaging a wing.

The strike was fast and sudden, and should have gutted the bastard cleanly, but when she pivoted to look at her target, the space before her was empty.

Ice wrapped around Sirian's spine as she searched the alleyway.

Where had he gone? No sense she was being watched, but that could mean many things from a man who didn't even have a psychic scent.

She waited a few minutes, back to the wall as she remained alert for danger., wrapping her weapon once more in a sight shield. When nothing moved to attack her, she slid out of the side alley and into the empty streets. The uneasiness in her stomach didn't go away when she hurried down the street back toward the inn. Her weapon, and her shield remained in place until she was safely back in her room with the doors locked.

**Xxxxxxxxx**

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	16. Happy Valentine's Day! Side-story

**Happy Valentine's Day everyone! Here's a quick side-story depicting a scene from Kavar and Sirian's past. Enjoy! Thanks to all my reviewers! Please be sure to review or else I'll lose inspiration.**

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs.**

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Kavar wasn't sure if he'd ever had a day worse than the one he was having now.

Not only had he been running late on his weapons deliveries, he'd managed to screw up the blade Yullivar had been working on for the past three weeks. He could still see the anger in the older man's eyes when he had discovered his thirteen year old apprentice standing in the middle of the workshop looking guiltily down at the twisted piece of metal that had once been an almost finished war blade.

So here he was, standing in the fighting ring, angrily whacking at one of the many stuffed dummies that lined the practice circle.

"What are you doing?" Kavar whirled around, the staff he often used during training held tightly in his grasp. He blinked his golden eyes once, twice, and forced himself not to turn around and run.

The eyrien girl before him, perched precariously on the practice circle's fence, grinned a lazy, arrogant smile that made his mouth go dry.

"If you're trying to work out some temper, it'd be better to have someone who can hit back." Her tone wasn't mocking, but Kavar felt his already frayed temper shorten.

"Unless you know someone to practice with, keep your suggestions to yourself." his snappish reply only made her grin wider and Kavar felt his anger turning to wariness.

Brushing a hand through her long, curly black hair, the girl hopped down from the fence and approached him. He had seen her around the camp every now and again, but he didn't know her name. He knew she didn't live in the camp itself, but she was a frequent visitor.

"I'll spar with you if you'd like." The look on his face must have been full of doubt, because the girl lifted her chin and stared down her nose at him, bristling.

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't beat you into the ground." She looked lovely when she was riled. But...

"Eyrien women are not supposed to use eyrien weapons. It's against traditions and-" He didn't see her move, but the next thing Kavar knew, he was lying flat on his back, ears ringing as his mind took a moment to register the pain blooming near his temple.

Hell's fire.

"Start talking like that again and I won't hold back."

Once he was sure he could sit up without getting dizzy, Kavar pushed himself up from the ground and blinked owlishly at the girl before him. Her dark membranous wings were flared out and her feet were set in a fighting stance as she held a shortened version of the traditional eyrien training stick. She wasn't smiling and he could see temper flashing in her eyes.

He had no doubt that she wasn't lying about holding back.

"Where did you learn that?" Her grin was his only answer and he barely got to his feet in time to block the next move.

"Come on now, you need to work out some temper so come after me!" He didn't think twice. Moving fast, he aimed a blow low and snarled in frustration as she blocked him and jabbed him sharply in the side. It was a mocking hit. She blocked his next several moves, continuing to mock him with light jabs in the openings she could find.

"You can do better than that! Come on now. Or are you afraid of a little girl?" His answer was a roar that tore out of his throat as his temper snapped. He didn't see anything but his target and slowly began to take the offensive. His moves were gaining speed, becoming sharper as she blocked. He could see the sweat on her skin, but didn't let up. Both of them were losing their breath when a voice suddenly shouted somewhere to the left.

"Looks like little Kavar finally found someone to match him at sticks." Ceasing his onslaught of attacks, Kavar's back straightened. He knew that voice.

"It's a _girl_ to. Hey girl who gave you a training stick? You know that's against the rules in the camp!" Kavar's glazed eyes focused on the three older eyrien warlords leaning against the fence, wicked smiles plastered on their faces.

"If you want a pair of balls sweetheart, all you need to do is look over here." A chorus of laughter erupted after the comment and Kavar bared his teeth angrily. Glancing next to him, the young warlord prince rocked back, stunned by the look of pure hate that crossed his sparring partner's face. Her expression changed quickly, replaced by that lazy, arrogant smile that made his knees go weak.

"Darling, if you had any real balls, you'd be in this ring with us instead of trying to start a pissing contest you can't win."

The humor rolling off of the three warlords was quickly replaced with something sharper, deadlier.

_Shit. No._

Kavar sent a panicked look next to him.

"What did you say you little bitch?" The girl tossed her hair over one shoulder, placing her hand on her hip and continued smiling.

"Looks like I struck a nerve there. What's the matter? Can't face a little girl because you know you'll get your ass handed to you?" All three men snarled and Kavar sent a message to the girl beside him.

***What are you doing? These guys are almost through with their training. They're on a whole other level***

***Do I look like I give a damn? If you can't handle it then leave.* **Kavar flinched at the venomous tone that filled the psychic link between them. No. She didn't look like she gave a damn. And as sure as the sun didn't shine in hell, he wasn't going to leave her alone with these three men.

"Bitch, you don't know who you're messing with. First we're going to beat the shit out of you two, then I'll show you some real balls."

Kavar felt his temper rise at the threat. It didn't take a genius to guess what the warlord meant by _that_.

Moving instinctively, Kavar turned slightly, feeling the girl do the same so they were back to back. The three warlords circled them, calling in their own sparring sticks.

And then they moved.

Kavar could feel his muscles straining as he blocked blow after blow, and judging by the heavy breathing behind him, his partner was getting as tired as he was. A shout and a snarl was enough of a distraction to have the warlord Kavar was focusing on, turn his attention elsewhere. A rookie mistake. A single blow to the ribs and a sharp hit across the man's forehead and the older eyrien was down for the count. Swinging around, Kavar noted the second eyrien male on the ground, bleeding, and he felt his eyes widen as he watched Sirian glide across the sparring field, dancing away from every attack the last of the warlords made. She pivoted on her right foot, curving around to land a blow across the warlord's knee that had him falling to the ground with a pained shout. Then a flash of light against metal and Kavar leaped forward, barely managing to take the brunt of the blow the warlord would have landed on the young girl's outstretched wings. Hot pain shot through his upper arm and his own snarl was outdone by the inhuman shriek beside him. Cold fury washed across the battleground and Kavar watched the enraged eyrien girl slide out from behind him and tackle the opposing warlord to the ground.  
"KAVAR!" turning toward the shout, Kavar felt the blood in his face drain as he watched Yullivar's quick approach, despite the limp in his step. Before he could say anything, two other men appeared and Kavar recognized them as Yullivar's friends. Both men moved toward the girl, who was still doing her best to claw the screaming warlord's eyes out, and paused when she snarled at them. Yullivar didn't waste any time and grabbed the young girl by the waist and lifted her in the air, tossing her over his shoulder. She screamed at the older man in eyrien and Kavar felt his mouth drop open.

He'd _never_ heard a girl say those words before.

Yullivar ignored the girl's swearing and kicking, grunting once when her foot landed a blow to his collarbone.

Limping over to the water trough usually used for soaking after a fight, the older warlord prince simply dumped the screaming female into the water. Shocked into silence, the now wet girl stood with her eyes open wide, fury still rolling off of her in waves.  
"You men take care of these boys, I'll handle the children."

"I do not need to be handled! That bastard HURT him!" Since she was pointing an accusing finger at him, Kavar blinked and moved closer to Yullivar.  
"Girlie, I'd stop speaking and fast lest you want me to dump you into the mountain lake." The threat was sincere and Kavar, who had been tossed in those freezing waters several times before, winced. "Now you can come with me and help me look at Kavar's arm, or you can stay out here and soak for a bit." The girl narrowed her golden eyes at Yullivar but remained silent. Grunting in approval, Yullivar waved a hand that signaled for them both to follow. Since his body was finally beginning to register the pain in his arm, Kavar didn't argue; and thankfully the girl didn't either as she scrambled out of the water and followed squishily behind him.

**Xxxxxxxxxxxx**

Arm bandaged and a hot meal settling in his stomach, Kavar sat outside of the shop staring at the sky, lost in thought.

He and the girl had explained what had happened as best as they could, and Yullivar had simply listened, asking only a question here and there.

Since Kavar had been fuzzy on the details near the end, the girl filled them both in.

After she had gotten the warlord to his knees, she had planned on backing off to end the fight. The warlord had chosen that moment to switch his training staff to a bladed stick and Kavar had "went and jumped in front of the blade like a complete moron, completely disregarding the fact that I (the girl) could have dodged it myself". At least that's how she had put it. After that delightful explanation, Kavar had taken his turn to fill her in on the very end bits. He hadn't been aware that he was bleeding until she had jumped on top of the warlord and...  
Kavar swallowed the lump in his throat.

He had heard that women were more vicious than men when they went cold, but he never really grasped the concept. Most eyrien women stuck with tradition and never touched an eyrien man's weapon, let alone learned to attack someone like _that_.

He heard the soft footsteps coming up behind him, but didn't turn around. The girl plopped down beside him and sighed, looking dry and fluffy in a pair of his own worn out clothes.

"Sorry about that." Kavar looked next to him and noted the sorrow in her eyes. The look made his chest tighten and he shook his head.

"No, no. It's not your fault. And it doesn't hurt that bad." The girl snorted once and shook her head, a smile working it's way across her lips.

"No, not your arm. That was your own damn fault. I meant I was sorry that I egged those guys on. There wouldn't have been a fight if I would have just kept my mouth shut." Kavar thought back, recalling the vicious look in the men's eyes.

"Oh I doubt that. They were out for blood. We just happened to be there." Her look suggested she didn't quite believe him, but she smiled nonetheless.

"You're not half bad with a stick you know." The compliment made Kavar's heart leap and he couldn't help the unabashed grin spreading across his face.

"Speak for yourself. I've never seen _anyone_ handle a stick like you and-" the rest of his sentence was cut short as the eyrien girl leaned forward, pressing her lips against his.

She tasted like honey.

He sat there stupidly as the girl broke the kiss and stood up, her lazy, arrogant smile plastered across her face.

"Well, see you around Kavar."

As she turned to leave, Kavar scrambled to say something, anything.

"Wait! What's your name?" The girl turned at the waist, and looked him over... twice.

"Sirian." Stretching her wings, she launched herself into the sky and headed east.

It had turned out to be a very good day.

**Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**REVIEW! I crave your thoughts and opinions. **


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